THE  LIBRARY 

OF 
THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


This  book  has  been  adapted  for 
the  stage  by  James  A.  Herne. 
The  drama,  under  the  title  of  "The 
Rev.  Griffith  Davenport/'  is  being 
produced  by  Mr.  Herne. 


An   Unofficial  Patriot 


BY 

HELEN  H.  GARDENER 

AUTHOR    OF 

"Is This  Your  Son,  My  Lord  ?"  "  Pray  You,  Sir,  Whose  Daughter?" 

"Pushed  by  Unseen  Hands,"   "A  Thoughtless  Yes'1 

"Men,  Women  and  Gods,"    *'  Facts  and  Fictions 

of  Life,"   Etc.,  Etc. 


NEW    YORK 

R.  F.  FENNO  &  COMPANY 

9  AND   1 1   EAST   1 6rH  STREET 
1898 


Copyright,  1894, 

by 

HELEN  H.  GARDENER. 
A II  rights  reserved. 


K 


DEDICATION. 

To  those  who,  with  heroic  fortitude,  have 
faced  the  questions  involved ;  to  whom  was  and 
is  unknown  the  narrow  vision  which  results  in 
bitterness  ;  who  do  not  reckon  upon  great  socio 
logical  problems  in  the  evolution  of  the  race  as 
mere  political  capital ;  who  are  able  at  once  to 
comprehend  and  to  respect  divergent  opinion, 
and  who  do  not  brand  as  moral  turpitude  all 
that  falls  outside  the  scope  of  their  own  experi 
ence  or  preference  ;  this  volume  is  dedicated,  in 
the  hope  that  it  may  make  plain  some  things 
that  even  the  conscientious  historian  has  failed 
to  understand  or  record,  and  upon  which  litera 
ture  is  so  far  silent. 


;'  Fame  is  the  rose  on  a  dead  man's  breast." 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  I. 

A   SON   OF   VIRGINIA. 

GEIFFITB  DAVENPORT  was  a  clergyman.  I 
tell  you  this  at  the  outset,  so  that  you  may  be 
prepared  to  take  sides  with  or  against  him,  as 
is  your  trend  and  temperament.  Perhaps,  too, 
it  is  just  as  well  for  me  to  make  another  state 
ment,  which  shall  count  in  his  favor  or  to  his 
disadvantage,  according  to  your  own  prejudices 
or  convictions.  He  was  a  Southern  man.  He 
had  been  a  slave-owner,  and  now  he  was  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other.  But  in  connection  with, 
and  in  explanation  of  these  last-mentioned  facts, 
I  may  say  that  he  had  been  a  law-breaker  in 
his  native  State,  and  was,  at  the  very  time  of 
which  I  tell  you,  evading  the  law  in  the  State 
of  his  adoption. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


Both  of  these  facts  were  the  direct  results  of 
having  been  born  to  slave-ownership,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  with  a  conscience  which  was  of, 
and  in  harmony  with,  a  different  latitude  and 
heredity.  I  trust  that  you  will  not  infer  from 
this  last  remark  that  I  am  of  the  opinion  that 
the  conscience  of  the  Northern  habitant  is  of 
more  delicate  fiber  than  is  that  of  his  Southern 
brother,  who  is  of  the  same  mental  and  social 
grade ;  for  nothing  could  be  farther  from  either 
the  facts  or  my  intentions  herein.  But  that  it  is 
of  a  different  type  and  trend  is  equally  beyond 
controversy.  The  prickings  of  the  one  are  as 
regular  and  as  incessant,  no  doubt,  as  are  those 
of  the  other ;  but  the  stimulating  causes  have 
different  roots.  Perhaps,  too,  it  may  sound 
strange  to  you  to  hear  of  one  who  can  be  spoken 
of  as  having  a  somewhat  sensitive  conscience 
and  at  the  same  time  as  being  both  a  law-breaker 
and  a  law-evader.  But  certain  it  is,  that  with  a 
less  primitive  conception  of  laws  and  of  men, 
you  will  be  able  to  adjust,  to  a  nicety,  the  ideas 
therein  conveyed,  and  also  to  realize  how  true 
it  is  that  times,  conditions,  and  environment 
sometimes  determine  the  standard  by  which  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


rightf ulness  or  wrongfulness  of  conduct  is  meas 
ured,  and  that  it  is  quite  within  the  possibilities 
for  a  man  to  be  at  once  a  law-breaker  and  a 
good  man,  or  a  law-keeper  and  a  bad  one. 

But  I  am  not  intending  to  warp  your  judg 
ment  in  advance,  and  you  are  to  remember  that 
whatever  my  opinion  of  the  quality  of  the  Rev. 
Griffith  Davenport's  conduct  may  be,  there  is 
another  side  to  the  matter,  and  that  I  shall  not 
take  it  greatly  to  heart  if  you  should  find  your 
self  on  the  other  side. 

But  if,  as  I  have  sometimes  heard  readers  say 
—  who  looked  upon  themselves  as  of  a  some 
what  superior  order — you  do  not  take  an  inter 
est  in  people  who  have  placed  themselves  out 
side  of  the  beaten  pathway  of  legal  regularity, 
it  will  be  just  as  well  for  you  to  lay  this  little 
story  aside  now,  for,  as  I  have  said,  it  is  a  story 
of  a  clergyman,  a  slave-holder,  a  law-breaker, 
and  a  law-evader,  which,  I  admit,  does  not  at 
the  first  blush  present  a  picture  to  the  mind  of 
a  person  in  whom  you  and  I,  my  lofty  and  im 
maculate  friend,  would  be  greatly  interested,  or 
with  whom  we  would  care  to  associate  for  any 
protracted  period.  Still,  I  intend  to  tell  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


story,  and  in  order  to  give  you  a  perfectly  clear 
idea  of  how  all  the  more  important  events  in 
this  curiously  complicated  life  came  about,  I 
shall  be  compelled  to  go  back  to  the  boyhood  of 
young  Davenport,  so  that  you  may  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  life  and  training,  which  were  a 
prelude  and  a  preparation — if  you  do  not  wish 
to  look  upon  them  as  exactly  a  justification — of 
and  for  the  later  years  of  the  life,  which  experi 
enced  such  strange  trials,  complications  and 
vicissitudes. 

It  was  in  the  year  eighteen  hundred  and 
twenty-four  that  the  great  sea  of  Methodism 
first  began  to  beat  with  a  force  that  was  like 
that  of  a  succession  of  mighty  tidal  waves  upon 
the  previously  placid  State  of  Virginia.  Young 
Davenport  had,  at  that  time,  just  turned  his  fif 
teenth  year,  but  it  was  not  until  nearly  four  years 
later,  when  the  tide  of  interest  and  excitement 
had  swept  with  a  power  and  influence  impossi 
ble  to  picture  in  these  days  of  religious  indiffer 
ence  and  critical  inquiry,  into  the  homes  and 
over  the  barriers  of  long-established  things,  that 
young  Griffith's  home  felt  the  invasion  to  be  a 
thing  which  it  behooved  gentlemen  to  consider 


AN   UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


seriously,  or  even  to  recognize  as  existing,  if 
one  may  so  express  it,  in  an  official  sense. 

As  I  suggested  before,  it  would  be  difficult,  in 
these  later  and  less  emotional  days,  when  every 
school-boy  knows  of  doubts  and  questionings  in 
the  minds  of  his  elders,  to  picture  adequately 
the  serene  lack  of  all  such  doubts  and  question 
ings  in  Griffith  Davenport's  boyhood. 

To  be  sure  there  were,  and,  I  venture  to  as 
sume,  always  had  been,  disagreement  and  dis 
putes  over  forms,  methods,  and  meanings ;  but 
these  were  not  fundamental  doubts  of  funda 
mental  beliefs,  of  which  it  would  be  entirely 
safe  to  say  that  young  Davenport  had  never  in 
his  whole  life  heard  one  little  doubt  expressed 
or  intimated,  or  that  a  question  existed  that 
could  tend  to  make  any  one  suspect  that  there 
were  or  could  be  unsettled  realms  in  the  system 
and  plan  of  salvation  as  laid  down  by  Christian 
ity.  He  supposed,  of  course,  that  Christianity 
was  an  incontrovertible,  fixed,  and  final  religion. 
Different  sects  he  knew  there  were,  but  all  of 
these  accepted  the  basic  principle  of  Christian^. 
All  sprang  from  the  same  root.  Some  grew 
eastward,  some  westward,  and  some  made  straight 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


for  heaven  like  the  center  shaft  of  a  great  oak ; 
but  each  and  all  were  true  limbs  of  the  same 
healthful  trunk  whose  roots  found  anchorage  in 
the  bed-rock  of  eternal  truth.  He  did  not  know 
that  there  were  other  trees  quite  as  vigorous 
and  even  more  expansive,  each  of  which  had 
sprung  from  the  seed  of  human  longing  to  solve 
the  unsolvable.  The  "  heathen  "  he  had  heard 
of,  of  course,  in  a  condemnatory  or  pitying  way, 
but  he  did  not  know  or  think  of  their  worship 
as  "religion."  It  was  "  fetichism,"  idolatry, 
superstition.  Of  Deists,  he  had  heard,  if  at  all, 
but  vaguely ;  for  it  must  be  remembered  that  in 
the  year  of  our  blessed  Lord  eighteen  hundred 
and  twenty-seven  the  name  of  that  famous  Deist, 
Thomas  Paine,  who  had  done  so  much  for  the 
liberty  and  dignity  of  the  great  new  nation,  was 
not  honored  as  it  is  to-day,  and,  indeed,  so  dense 
was  the  philosophical  ignorance  of  that  time, 
that  the  mention  of  the  name  of  the  author-hero 
of  the  Revolution  was  seldom  made  except  in 
execration  and  contumely.  Even  of  the  Jews, 
from  whom  his  religion  came,  Griffith  had  heard 
no  good.  They  had  slain  the  Christ,  had  they  not? 
Their  own  God  condemned  the  act,  did  he  not? 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


Young  Davenport  supposed  that  this  was  all 
true.  He  also  supposed  that  because  of  a 
blunder,  made  in  ignorance  and  passion,  in  an 
age  long  past,  a  whole  race  had  ever  since  been 
under  the  chastising  hand  of  a  just  Jehovah, 
who  had  decreed  that  their  humiliation  and  the 
expiation  of  the  fatal  blunder  should  be  eternal. 
That  there  were  Jews  who  were  to-day  good, 
devout  and  religious  who  still  approved  the 
attitude  of  Pilate  toward  the  Christ,  he  did  not 
know.  He  counted  this  class,  therefore,  as  in 
some  sort,  Christians  also.  Mistaken  in  method, 
no  doubt ;  superstitious  and  blundering  perhaps  ; 
but  still  secretly  filled  with  sorrow  and  shame 
for  the  awful  crime  of  their  race,  and  accepting 
the  verdict  of  God  and  the  disciplining  punish 
ment  of  time,  he  had  no  doubt  of  their  final  ac 
ceptance  of  what  he  believed  established  as 
eternal  Truth,  and  their  consequent  redemption 
and  salvation.  The  easy-going,  gentle  Episco- 
palianism  of  his  home-training,  with  its  morning 
and  evening,  perfunctory,  family  prayers,  its 
"  table  grace  "  and  its  Sunday  service,  where  all 
the  leading  families  of  the  county  were  to  be 
seen,  and  where  the  Rector  read  with  so  much 


8  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

finish  and  the  choir  sang  so  divinely,  the  same 
old  hymns,  week  after  week,  had  so  far  been  as 
much  a  part  of  his  life, — and  were  accepted  as 
mechanically, — as  were  the  daily  meals,  the  un 
paid  negro  labor,  and  the  fact  th?.4:  his  father, 
the  old  "  Squire,"  sat  in  the  best  pew,  because 
he  had  built  and  endowed  the  finest  church  in 
the  State. 

All  these  things  had  come  to  Griffith  as  quite 
a  matter  of  course  ;  as  some  equally  important 
things  have  come  to  you  and  to  me — and  not  at 
all  as  matters  of  surprise  or  as  questions  for 
argument. 

That  his  father,  the  old  major,  swore  roundly, 
from  time  to  time,  at  the  slaves,  did  not  appeal 
to  the  boy's  mind  as  either  strange  or  reprehen 
sible  ;  so  true  is  it  that  those  things  which  come 
to  us  gradually,  and  in  the  regular  order  of 
events,  do  not  arouse  within  us  doubts  and 
questionings  as  do  sudden  or  startling  addi 
tions  to  our  development  or  intellectual  equip 
ment,  when  thrust  unexpectedly  in  upon  our 
ordinary  surroundings.  Such  moral  or  social 
questions  as  were  involved  in  the  ownership  of 
slaves  had,  up  to  that  time,  produced  no  more 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


mental  qualms  in  the  boy  than  have  the  same 
questions  as  to  ownership  of  lands  or  of  horses 
upon  you  or  me  at  the  present  time. 

Jerry  had  been  Griffith's  own  particular 
"  boy  "  ever  since  he  could  remember,  and,  al 
though  Jerry  was  the  older  of  the  two,  it  would 
be  wholly  unfair  to  all  parties  concerned  not  to 
state  clearly  and  fully  that  the  righteousness 
and  inevitability  of  the  relationship  of  owned 
and  owner,  had  no  more  sinister  meaning  for 
Jerry  than  it  had  for  his  young  "  Mos'  Grif ." 
So  prone  are  we  all  to  accept  as  a  finality  that 
to  which  custom  has  inured  us. 

Was  Jerry  an  Episcopalian  ?  Most  assuredly ! 
Were  not  all  of  the  Davenports  members  of  the 
established  order  in  all  things  ?  And  was  not 
Jerry  a  Davenport?  Not  one  negro  on  the 
whole  plantation  had  ever  for  one  little  moment 
thought  of  himself  as  other  than  an  Episcopa 
lian, — in  so  far  as  the  Almighty  would  permit 
one  whose  skin  was  black  to  be  of  the  elect. 
They  one  and  all  felt  a  real  and  eager  pride  in 
the  social  and  religious  status  of  the  Davenports, 
and  had  never  even  harbored  a  doubt  that  they 
would  be  permitted  to  polish  the  harps  and  hold 


10  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  horses  of  that  fortunate  family  when  all 
should  again  be  reunited  in  that  better  world, 
where  all  might  be  free  but  not  equal — for  "  as 
one  star  differed  from  another,"  etc.  No  dif 
ferent  dreams  had  ever,  so  far,  visited  master  or 
slave. 

"  I  could  never  be  happy  in  heaven  without 
Jerry,"  had  settled  the  question  in  Griffith's 
mind,  for  of  course  his  own  destination  was 
sure.  And  the  negro  felt  equally  secure  when 
he  thought,  "  Mos'  Grif  ain't  gwine  ter  go 
nowhah  widout  me.  Nobody  else  ain't  gwine 
ter  take  cahr  ob  him.  Nobody  else  know 
how." 

But  the  unsettling  times  which  brought  Meth 
odism,  in  a  great  and  overwhelming  wave,  into 
the  ranks  of  established  things,  brought  also 
mutterings  and  perplexities  and  awakenings  of 
another  sort.  Aroused  energies,  stimulated  con 
sciences,  excited  mentalities  are  ever  likely  to 
find  varying  outlets.  Progressive  movements 
seldom  travel  singly,  and  so  it  came  about  that, 
mingled  with  the  new  religious  unrest,  there 
were  other  and,  perhaps  you  will  say,  graver 
questions  so  inextricably  joined,  in  some  minds 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  11 

that  the  one  appeared  to  be  the  root  and  cause 
of  the  other. 

"  Is  slavery  right  ?  If  it  is  right  for  the  laity, 
at  least,  is  it  not  wrong  for  one  who  is  an  apos 
tle  of  the  Son  of  God,  who  had  not  where  to  lay 
His  head  ?  Should  black  men  be  free  men  ?  " 
and  all  the  disturbing  horde  of  questions  which 
followed  in  the  train  of  the  new  religion,  began 
to  float,  at  first  in  intangible  ways,  in  the  air.  A 
little  later  they  took  form  in  scowl  or  hasty 
word,  and  at  last  crept  into  sermons,  social  dis 
cussions  and  legislative  deliberations,  as  by  de 
grees  the  echo  of  these  latter  floated  down  from 
Washington  or  filtered  through  other  sources, 
from  the  Border  States,  where  the  irrepressible 
conflict  had  arisen  in  a  new  form  to  vex  the 
souls  and  arouse  the  passions  of  men.  The 
pressing  question  of  free  soil  or  slave  extension 
had  already  begun  to  urge  itself  upon  the  public 
mind  and  to  harass  the  Border  States,  finding 
utterance  for  or  against  that  Congressional  meas 
ure  known  as  the  Missouri  Compromise  Bill. 
Young  Griffith  Davenport  had  spent  his  seven 
teen  years  in  an  atmosphere  of  scholarly  investi 
gation  and  calm,  where  little  of  even  the  echoes 


12  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

of  these  disturbing  influences  had  come.  His 
home  was  a  comfortable  one — indeed,  the  finest 
in  all  that  part  of  the  "  valley " ;  the  library 
quite  unusual  in  extent  and  quality  for  the  time 
and  place.  Grif's  tutor  was  a  University  man, 
his  pleasures  those  of  a  country  'squire  ;  for  in 
Virginia,  as  in  England,  the  office  of  "esquire," 
or  justice  of  the  peace,  was  wont  to  pass  from 
father  to  eldest  son,  in  families  of  considera 
tion  ;  and,  indeed,  at  that  early  age  Grif's  father 
had,  by  degrees,  turned  the  duties  of  the  office 
over  to  the  boy,  until  now  no  one  expected  to 
consult  the  "  old  'squire  "  upon  any  ordinary 
topic.  The  "young  'squire  "  settled  it,  whether 
it  were  a  dispute  over  dog-slain  sheep  or  a  mis 
understanding  about  the  road  tax. 

Upon  this  placid,  "  established "  finality  of 
existence  it  was,  then,  which  descended  a 
cyclone.  Formalism  in  religion  had  run  its 
course.  The  protest  was  swift,  impassioned, 
sincere.  Vigorous,  earnest,  but  often  unlearned 
men  sprang  into  prominence  at  a  single  bound. 
Arguments  arose.  Men  began  to  ask  if  the  Al 
mighty  was  pleased  with  forms  in  which  the  soul 
was  dead — if  mere  words,  and  not  sincere  emo- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  13 

tion  of  the  heart,  gratified  God.  Was  it  wor 
ship  to  simply  read  or  repeat  the  words  of 
another  ?  Must  not  one's  own  soul,  mind  and 
heart  furnish  the  key,  as  well  as  the  medium,  to 
aid  in  real  devotion  ?  Had  the  letter  killed  the 
spirit  ? 

Young  Griffith  heard.  The  ideas  fascinated 
him.  Oaths  from  his  father's  lips  struck  him 
with  a  new  meaning  and  a  different  force. 
Whereas  they  had  been  mere  vocal  emphasis, 
now  they  were  fearful  maledictions — and  from 
a  leading  Christian,  the  leading  Christian  of  the 
county ! 

Griffith  pondered,  trembled,  listened  again  to 
the  new  religious  teachers — to  whose  meetings 
he  had,  at  first,  gone  in  a  spirit  of  mild  fun,  not 
in  the  least  reprobated  by  his  father — and  had, 
at  last,  tremblingly,  passionately  believed. 


14  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  II. 

"  I  paint  him  in  character."  —  Shakespeare. 

THAT  a  Davenport  should  seriously  contem 
plate  leaving  the  "  Mother  Church,"  as  the  dev 
otees  of  the  Anglican  establishment  were  given 
to  calling  their  branch  of  the  real  Roman 
mother,  was  a  proposition  too  absurd  to  be  con 
sidered  ;  and  the  old  Major  met  his  son's  first 
suggestions,  wherein  this  tendency  was  indi 
cated,  as  the  mere  vaporings  of  a  restless,  un 
formed  boy.  He  laughed  loudly,  guyed  his  son 
openly,  and  inquired  jocosely  which  one  of  the 
pretty  Methodist  girls  had  struck  his  fancy. 

"  If  it  turns  out  to  be  serious,  Grif,  and  you 
marry  her,  she  will,  as  a  matter  of  course,  trans 
fer  her  membership  to  the  Mother  Church.  A 
true  wife  always  follows  her  husband  in  all 
things.  '  Thy  people  shall  be  my  people,  and 
thy  God  my  God,'  you  know,  Grif.  Good  old 
saying.  Bible  truth,  my  son.  But  who  is  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  15 

happy  girl,  you  young  scamp  ?  There  is  rather 
a  paucity  of  thoroughbreds  among  the  Metho 
dists,  as  they  call  this  new  craze.  Don't  make 
that  kind  of  a  mistake,  my  boy,  whatever  else 
you  do.  Better  keep  inside  the  paddock." 

The  old  Major  chuckled,  and,  turning  on  his 
heel,  left  his  son  covered  with  confusion,  and 
with  a  sense  of  impotent  zeal  and  conviction  to 
which  he  could  not  or  dared  not  give  voice. 

That  this  question  of  a  truer,  warmer,  more 
personally  stirring  religious  life  did  not  touch  a 
single  responsive  chord  in  the  Major's  nature, 
filled  the  son,  anew,  with  misgivings.  At  first, 
these  questionings  led  him  to  doubt  himself, 
and  to  wonder  if  it  could,  after  all,  be  possible 
that  his  own  youth,  inexperience  and  provincial 
ism  might  really  not  lie  at  the  root  of  his  new 
unrest.  lie  went  to  the  Methodist  meetings 
with  a  fresh  determination  to  be  serenely  criti 
cal,  and  not  to  yield  to  the  onrush  of  emotion 
which  had  grown  so  strong  within  him  as  he 
had  listened,  in  the  past,  to  the  passionate  and 
often  ruggedly- eloquent  appeals  of  the  pioneers 
of  the  new  faith — or,  perhaps,  it  were  better  to 
say,  to  the  new  expression  of  the  old  faith. 


16  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  gave  up  his  extra  Latin  lessons,  which 
had  been  his  delight  and  the  pride  of  his  tutor 
and  of  his  family,  that  he  might  have  these 
hours  for  the  study  of  the  Bible  and  the  few 
other  books  carried  by  the  colporteurs  or  the 
circuit  riders,  who  were  beginning  to  overrun 
the  State. 

The  old  Major  disapproved,  but  it  was  not  his 
way  to  discuss  matters  with  his  family  ;  and  it 
may  be  doubted,  indeed,  if  the  Major  grasped 
the  significance  and  force  of  the  tide  which  had 
overtaken  his  son,  as  it  had  rushed  with  the 
power  of  a  flood  over  his  beloved  Virginia  and 
left  in  its  wake  a  tremendous  unrest,  and  carried 
before  it  many  of  the  most  sincere  and  forceful 
characters  and  questions.  Beyond  a  few  twit- 
tings  and  an  occasional  growl,  therefore,  the  old 
Major  had  ignored  his  son's  gradual  withdrawal 
from  the  ancient  forms  and  functions  and  the 
fact  that  almost  every  Sunday  morning,  of  late, 
had  found  the  boy  absent  from  the  family  pew 
and  present  two  miles  up  the  valley  at  the  little 
log  meeting-house  of  the  Methodists.  He  was 
unprepared,  therefore,  to  face  the  question  seri 
ously,  -when  finally  told  by  the  boy's  mother 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  17 

that  Grif  had  decided  that  on  his  nineteenth 
birthday  he  would  be  baptized,  and  that  he 
intended  to  enter  the  ministry  as  a  circuit  rider. 

The  joke  struck  the  Major  as  good  above  the 
average.  He  laughed  long  and  loud.  He 
chuckled  within  himself  all  day.  When  even 
ing  came  and  Griffith  appeared  at  the  table  the 
Major  was  too  full  of  mirth  and  derision  to  con 
tent  himself  with  his  usual  banter. 

"  Your  mothah  inforhms  me,"  he  began  with 
the  ironical  touch  in  his  tone  held  well  under 
the  sparkle  of  humor.  "  Your  mothah  inforhms 
me  that  to-morrow  is  your  nineteenth  birthday, 
you  long-legged  young  gosling,  and  that  you 
contemplate  celebrating  it  by  transmuting  your 
self  into  a  Methodist  ass  with  leather  lungs  and 
the  manners,  sir, — and  the  habits,  sir,  of — of — of 
a  damned  Yankee  !  " 

As  the  Major  had  halted  for  words  and  the 
picture  of  his  son  as  a  circuit  rider  arose  before 
him  as  a  reality  and  not  as  a  joke,  his  ire  had 
gotten  the  better  of  his  humor.  The  picture  he 
had  conjured  up  in  his  own  mind  of  this  son  of 
his  in  the  new  social  relations  sure  to  result  from 

the  contemplated  change  of  faith  swamped  the 

2 


18  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

old  Major's  sense  of  the  absurdity  of  the 
situation  in  a  sudden  feeling  of  indignation  and 
chagrin,  and  the  sound  of  his  own  unusual 
words  did  the  rest. 

Griffith  looked  up  at  his  father  in  blank  sur 
prise.  His  mother  said,  gently,  "Majah! 
Majah  !  "  But  the  old  'squire's  sudden  plunge 
into  anger  had  him  in  its  grip.  He  grew  more 
and  more  excited  as  his  own  words  stirred 
him. 

"  Yes,  sir,  like  a  damned  northern  tackey  that 
comes  down  here  amongst  respectable  people  to 
talk  to  niggers,  and  preach,  as  they  call  their 
ranting,  to  the  white  trash  that  never  owned  a 
nigger  in  their  whole  worthless  lives,  and  tell 
'em  about  the  '  unrighteousness  '  of  slavery  ! 
Why  don't  they  read  their  Bibles  if  they  know 
enough  to  read?  It  teaches  slavery  plain 
enough — '  Servants  obey  your  masters  in  all 
things,'  and  '  If  a  man  sell  his  servant,'  and 
'His  servant  is  his  money,'  and  a  good  many 
more  !  Why  don't  they  read  their  Bibles,  I 
say,  and  shout  if  they  want  to,  and  attend  to 
their  own  business  ?  Nobody  wants  their  long 
noses  down  here  amongst  reputable  people, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  19 

sowing  seeds  of  riot  and  rebellion  among  the 
niggers  ! "  The  Major  had  forgotten  his  orig 
inal  point  but  it  came  back  to  him  as  Grif 
began  to  speak. 

"  But,  sir " 

"  But,  sir !  "  he  said,  rising  from  his  chair  in 
his  excitement,  "  don't  '  but,  sir,'  me  !  I'm  dis 
gusted  and  ashamed,  sir  !  Ashamed  from  the 
bottom  of  my  hawt,  that  a  son  of  mine — a  Daven 
port — could  for  one  moment  contemplate  this 
infernal  piece  of  folly !  A  circuit  rider,  indeed ! 
A  damned  disturber  of  niggers  !  A  man  with 
no  traditions !  Shouting  and  having  fits  and 
leading  weak-minded  women  and  girls,  and 
weaker-minded  boys  and  niggers  into  unpardon 
able,  disgraceful  antics  and  calling  it  religion  ! 
Actually  having  the  effrontery  to  call  it  religion  ! 
It's  nothing  but  infernal  rascality  in  half  the 
cases  and  pitiable  insanity  in  the  other  half,  and 
if  I'd  been  doing  my  duty  as  a  'squire  I'd  have 
taken  the  whole  pestiferous  lot  up  and  put  one 
set  in  jail  and  the  other  set  in  an  asylum,  long 
ago  !  Look  at  'em !  Ducking '  converts,'  as  they 
call  their  dupes,  in  the  creek  !  Perfectly  dis 
graceful,  sir !  I  forbid  you  to  go  about  their 


20  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

meetings  again,  sir !  Yes,  sir,  once  and  for  all, 
I  forbid  it !  " 

The  Major  brought  his  fist  down  on  the  table 
with  a  bang  that  set  the  fine  china  rattling  and 
added  the  last  straw  of  astonishment  and  dis 
comfort  to  the  unusual  family  jar ;  for  few  in 
deed  had  ever  been  the  occasions  upon  which 
even  a  mild  degree  of  paternal  authority  had  not 
been  so  quickly  followed  by  ready  and  willing 
compliance  that  an  outbreak  of  anything  like 
real  temper  or  authoritative  command — other 
than  at  or  toward  the  slaves — had  been  hardly 
within  Grif  s  memory. 

The  boy  arose,  trembling  and  pale,  and  leav 
ing  his  untouched  plate  of  choice  food  before  him 
turned  to  leave  the  room. 

"  Come  back  here,  sir !  "  commanded  the  old 
Major.  "  Take  your  seat,  sir,  and  eat  your 
supper,  sir,  and " 

Mrs.  Davenport  burst  into  tears.  The  boy 
hesitated,  parted  his  lips  as  if  to  speak,  looked 
at  his  mother,  and  with  a  sudden  movement  of 
his  hand  toward  a  little  book  which  he  always 
carried  these  later  days  in  his  breast-pocket,  he 
stepped  to  his  mother's  side.  There  was  a  great 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  21 

lump  in  his  throat.  He  was  struggling  for 
mastery  of  himself  but  his  voice  broke  into  a 
sob  as  he  said  : 

"  '  He  that  loveth  father  or  mother  more  than 
Me  is  not  worthy  of  Me.  And  he  that  taketh 
not  his  cross  and  followeth  after  Me,  is  not 
worthy  of  Me.'  "  He  kissed  his  mother's  fore 
head  and  passed  swiftly  out  of  the  room.  His 
horse  stood  at  the  front  gate  waiting  the  usual 
evening  canter.  Griffith  threw  his  long  leg 
over  the  saddle,  and  said  to  Jerry,  who  stood 
holding  the  bridle  of  his  own  horse,  ready  to 
follow  as  was  his  custom :  "  I  don't  want  you 
to-night,  Jerry.  Stay  at  home.  Good-night," 
and  rode  away  into  the  twilight. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  just  what  Grif 
fith's  plan  was.  Indeed,  it  had  all  been  so 
sudden  and  so  out  of  the  ordinary  trend  of  his 
life,  that  there  was  a  numb  whirl  of  excitement, 
of  pain  and  of  blind  impulse  too  fresh  within 
him  to  permit  of  anything  like  consecutive 
thought.  But,  with  Grif,  as  with  most  of  us 
when  the  crises  of  our  lives  come,  fate  or  chance 
or  conditions  have  taken  the  reins  to  drive  us. 
We  are  fond  of  saying — and  while  we  are  young 


22  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

we  believe — that  we  decided  thus  or  thus ;  that 
we  converted  that  condition  or  this  disaster 
into  an  opportunity  and  formed  our  lives  upon 
such  and  such  a  model.  All  of  which  is — 
as  a  rule — mere  fond  self-gratulation.  The 
fact  is,  although  it  may  wound  our  pride  to 
acknowledge  it,  that  we  followed  the  line  of 
least  resistance  (all  things  being  considered,  our 
own  natures  included)  and  events  did  the  rest. 
And  so  when  Grif  turned  an  angle  in  the  road, 
two  miles  from  home,  and  came  suddenly  upon 
the  circuit  rider,  who  was  to  baptize  the  new  con 
verts  on  the  following  day,  and  when  Brother 
Prout  took  it  for  granted  that  Grif  was  on 
his  way  to  the  place  of  gathering  in  order  to  be 
present  at  the  preliminary  meeting,  it  seemed  to 
Grif  that  he  had  originally  started  from  home 
with  that  object  in  view.  His  thoughts  began 
to  center  around  that  idea.  The  pain  and 
shock  of  the  home-quarrel,  which  he  had  simply 
started  out  to  ride  off,  to  think  over,  to  prepare 
to  meet  on  the  morrow,  gradually  faded  into  a 
dull  hurt,  which  made  the  phrases  and  quota 
tions  and  exhortations  of  Brother  Prout  sound 
like  friendly  and  personal  utterances  of  soothing 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  23 

and  of  paternal  advice,  and  so  the  two  miles 
stretched  into  ten  and  the  camp-ground  was 
reached,  and  for  Griffith,  the  die  was  cast. 


24  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE   IEONY   OF    FATE. 

IT  has  been  well  said  that  the  heresies  of  one 
generation  are  the  orthodox  standards  of  the 
next ;  and  it  is  equally  true  that  the  great  con 
vulsive  waves  of  emotion,  belief,  patriotic  aspi 
ration  or  progressive  emulation  of  the  leaders  of 
thought  of  one  age,  for  which  they  are  mar 
tyred  by  the  conventionally  stupid  majority, 
become  the  watchwords  and  uncontrovertible 
basis  of  belief  for  the  succeeding  generation  of 
the  respectably  unthinking,  and  furnish  afresh, 
alas !  the  means,  the  motives  and  the  power  for 
the  crucifixion  of  the  prophets  and  thinkers  of 
the  new  cycle.  Mediocrity  is  forever  sure  that 
nothing  better  or  loftier  is  in  store.  Genius 
sees  eternal  progress  in  perpetual  change. 

Much  of  the  doings  and  many  of  the  sayings 
of  the  new  religious  sect  seemed  to  the  people 
about  them  full  of  heresy,  dangerous  in  tend- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


ency,  and,  indeed,  blasphemous  in  its  enthusi 
asms  and  its  belief  in  and  effort  for  an  intimate 
personal  relationship  \vith  a  prayer-answering 
and  a  praise-loving  God.  To  Grif,  Brother 
Prout's  fervor  and  enthusiasm  of  expression,  his 
prayers  which  seemed  the  friendly  communica 
tions  of  one  who  in  deed  and  in  truth  walked 
with  his  God,  instead  of  the  old,  perfunctory, 
formal  reading  of  set  phrases  arranged  for  special 
days,  which  had  to  be  hunted  up  in  a  book  and 
responded  to  by  all  in  exactly  the  same  words, 
and  with  the  same  utter  want  of  personal  feel 
ing,  to  Grif,  these  fervid,  passionate,  sincere  and 
simple  appeals  of  the  kind  old  enthusiast  seemed 
like  the  very  acme  and  climax  of  a  faith  which 
might,  indeed,  move  mountains. 

"  Amen !  amen  !  " 

"  Praise  the  Lord,  O  my  soul !  " 

"Thanks  be  to  Almighty  God!"  echoed 
along  the  banks  of  the  river,  the  loved  Opquan, 
that  had  been  to  Grif  a  friend  and  companion 
from  his  earliest  boyhood.  He  had  never  stood 
by  its  banks  without  an  onrush  of  feeling  that 
had  tended  to  burst  into  a  song  of  joy  !  From 
his  grandfather's  front  porch  and  from  the  win- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


clows  of  his  own  room  at  home  he  could  see  it 
winding  through  the  rocky  hills  and  struggling 
for  its  right  to  reach  the  sea.  He  had  skipped 
pebbles  on  it  and  waded  across  it  at  low  tide, 
and  had  stood  in  awe  at  its  angry  and  impetuous 
swiri  when  the  spring  rains  had  swollen  it  to  a 
torrent  of  irresistible  force.  It  seemed  to  Grif 
now  that  its  waters  smiled  at  him,  and  his  eyefi 
filled  with  tears  that  were  of  happiness  not  un 
mixed  with  a  tender  pain  and  regret — regret  for 
he  knew  not  what. 

"  Joy  to  the  world,  the  Lord  has  come  !  " 
rang  out  with  a  volume  and  an  impassioned 
sincerity  which  gave  no  room  for  the  critical 
ear  of  the  musician  nor  for  the  carping  brain  of 
the  skeptic,  had  either  been  there  to  hear.  "  Let 
earth  receive  her  King !  "  The  hills  in  the  dis 
tance  took  up  the  melody,  and  it  seemed  to  the 
overwrought  nerves  of  the  boy  that  nothing  so 
beautiful  in  all  the  world  had  ever  been  seen  or 
heard  before.  "  Let  every  heart  prepare  Him 
room,  and  heaven  and  nature  sing  !  "  Ah,  was 
not  heaven  and  nature,  indeed,  singing  the  most 
glorious  song  the  earth  had  ever  heard  or  seen 
when  she  made  this  valley?  When  she  built 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  27 

these  mountains,  and  threaded  that  little  river 
over  the  stones  ?  Griffith  was  lost  in  an  intoxi 
cation  of  soul  and  sense.  He  was  looking  across 
the  valley  to  the  old  home.  His  hands  were 
clenched  until  the  nails  were  marking  the  palms, 
and  his  voice  rang  out  so  clear  and  true  that  the 
neighborhood  boys  touched  each  other  and  mo 
tioned  toward  the  young  fellow  with  almost  a 
sense  of  envy.  Neither  cultured  musician  nor 
cynic  was  there,  and  the  softness  of  the  air  lent 
charm  to  the  simple  exercises  which  some  of  the 
youths  had  come  in  a  spirit  of  fun  to  deride.  It 
was  restful  to  the  weary,  stimulating  to  the 
sluggish  and  soothing  to  the  unhappy.  They 
were  carried  out  of  their  narrow  and  monoto 
nous  lives.  If  Griffith's  heart  had  been  sore  and 
in  a  condition  to  be  soothed  by  the  words  and 
prayers  of  Father  Prout,  how  much  more  were 
his  nerves  and  emotions  in  that  unstrung  and 
vaguely  wounded  and  impressionable  state 
where  physical  change  and  reaction  is  easily 
mistaken  for  religious  fervor  or  exaltation,  how 
much  more  was  he  in  that  state  where  melody 
joined  to  nature's  most  profligate  mood  of  beauty 
in  scene  leads  captive  the  soul  1 


28  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

During  the  meeting  which  had  followed  his 
arrival  at  the  camp-ground  Grif  had  passed 
through  that  phase  of  physical  reaction  which 
meant  to  him  a  "  leading  of  the  spirit "  and,  as 
he  stood  now  on  the  banks  of  his  beloved  river 
pouring  out  his  young  heart  in  the  hymn  of  his 
boyish  fancy,  he  no  longer  doubted  that  he  had, 
indeed,  been  "  called  "  to  be  a  circuit  rider  and 
to  cast  his  lot  with  the  new  order  of  religious 
enthusiasts.  He  looked  now  upon  his  previous 
doubts  as  temptations  of  the  devil  and  put,  once 
and  for  all,  their  whisperings  behind  him  and 
accepted  the  new  lot  as  heaven  and  God-sent 
and  intended. 

Father  Prout  gave  to  all  of  his  converts  a 
choice  in  the  form  of  their  baptism.  Leaning, 
himself,  toward  immersion,  he  still  held  that 
sprinkling  was  sufficient  and  with  a  lingering 
memory  of  his  father's  fling  at  "  ducking  con 
verts  in  the  creek,"  Griffith  had  determined  to 
be  sprinkled ;  but,  as  the  last  echoes  of  the  old 
hymn  died  away,  he  stepped  to  the  bank  and 
indicated  that  he  would  be  immersed.  As  he 
arose  from  the  water  his  face  was  radiant, 
and  when  he  had  removed  his  immersion  robe 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  29 

his  eyes  filled  with  happy  tears  as  his  father 
rode  up  to  the  edge  of  the  grounds  and  held 
out  his  arms  to  the  boy. 

"My  son,"  he  said  tremulously,  "my  son, 
fohrgive  me.  I  have  been  unhappy  all  night.  I 
did  not  realize  that  I  was  swearing  at  you  until 
your  mothah  told  me.  Come  home,  my  boy, 
and  your  new  friends  will  be  welcome  at  Rock 
Hall.  God  bless  you,  my  son,  come  home, 
your  mothah  is  unhappy." 

Mr.  Lengthy  Patterson,  a  long-legged,  ca 
daverous  mountaineer  who  had  wended  his 
way  from  the  distant  fastnesses  of  the  high 
perched  log  cabin  which  he  called  home  and 
wherein  he  ate  and  slept  when  he  was  not 
engaged  in  those  same  occupations  out  under 
the  stars  where  night — during  his  hunting 
and  fishing  expeditions — chanced  to  overtake 
him,  had  been  watching  Grif  all  day.  The 
boy's  radiant  face  the  past  hour  had  fasci 
nated  him.  In  his  absorption  he  had  stepped 
so  close  to  the  old  Major  as  he  and  Grif 
stood  making  ready  for  the  homeward  ride,  that 
Mr.  Davenport  made  an  instinctive  gesture  of 
impatient  disapproval  which  called  the  naturally 


30  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

deferential  woodsman  back  to  his  normal  men 
tal  state. 

"  It  is  Lengthy  Patterson,  father,"  said  Grif 
fith,  with  his  ever-ready  impulse  to  cover  the 
confusion  of  the  unlucky  or  ignorant  who  were 
intrusive  without  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  until 
a  recognition  of  disapproval  made  self-con 
sciousness  painful. 

Mr.  Davenport  moved  as  if  to  make  amends 
for  his  previous  manner  by  an  offer  to  shake 
hands  with  the  mountaineer — an  unheard-of 
proceeding  on  the  'Squire's  part. 

"  Oh,  it's  Lengthy  Patterson,  is  it  ?  I  beg 
your  pahrdon,  Mr.  a — Lengthy.  I  did  not  rec 
ognize  you  at " 

The  long  legs  had  moved  slowly  away. 
He  turned  around,  tilted  his  half  rimless  hat 
further  on  to  the  back  of  his  head,  in  lieu  of 
lifting  it,  and  in  a  voice  as  evenly  graded  to 
one  single  note  as  is  that  of  a  flying  loon,  re 
marked,  as  he  kept  on  his  way : 

"No  excuse.  Say  nothin'.  Few  words  com 
prehends  the  whole." 

"What  did  that  fellow  say,  Grif?"  asked 
his  father,  as  they  mounted. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  31 

Griffith  laughed  rather  hysterically.  The 
reaction  was  coming. 

"  It's  just  a  phrase  he  has,  father.  They  say 
he  never  was  known  to  say  anything  else  ;  but 
I  expect  that  is  a  joke.  He's  an  honest  fellow 
and  a  splendid  woodsman.  He  knows  every 
crack  in  the  mountains,  and  is  a  perfect  terror 
to  rattlesnakes.  Don't  you  remember  ?  He  is 
the  fellow  who  saved  the  old  Randolph  house 
that  time  it  took  fire,  and  got  the  children  out. 
They  say  when  Mrs.  Randolph  went  away  up 
to  his  cabin  to  thank  him,  he  remarked  that  '  a 
few  words  comprehended  the  whole,'  and  fled 
the  mountain  until  he  was  sure  she  had  gone. 
He  appears  to  be  afraid  of  the  English  lan 
guage  and  of  nothing  else  on  earth." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  The  old  Major 
was  turned  half  out  of  his  saddle,  as  was  a 
habit  of  his,  to  rest  himself.  The  horses  were 
taking  their  own  gait.  Presently  they  turned 
a  curve  in  the  road  and  Grif  suddenly  threw 
his  arm  across  his  father's  shoulder  and  leaned 
far  over  toward  him.  "  Kiss  me,  father,"  he 
said,  and  before  the  moisture  had  dried  out  of 
their  eyes  and  the  great  lump  left  their  throats, 


32  .      AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

both  laughed  a  little  in  that  shame-faced  fash 
ion  men  have  when,  with  each  other,  they  have 
yielded  to  their  natural  and  tender  emotions. 
But  both  horses  understood  and  broke  into  a 
steady  lope,  and  the  chasm  was  bridged. 

"  Dars  Mos'  Grif !  Bars  Mos'  Grif  an'  ole 
Mos' ! "  exclaimed  Jerry  as  he  saw  the  two 
horsemen  in  the  distance.  "  Dey  comiii',  Mis' 
Sallie,  dey  is  dat !  Lawsy  me,  Mis'  Sallie,  dey 
want  no  uste  fer  yo'  ter  be  skeered  dat  a  way 
'bout  Mos'  Grif.  lie's  des  dat  staidy  dat  yo'  c'd 
cahry  wattah  on  he  haid,  let  er  'lone  Selim  ain't 
gwine  ter  let  no  trouble  come  ter  Mos'  Grif. 
But  I  dus  'low  dat  'e  oughter  a  tuck  dis  chile 
erlong  wid  'im  ter  look  arter  'im,  dough.  Dat's 
a  fack.  I  knows  dat.  Run  inter  de  kitchen, 
Lippy  Jane,  an'  tell  yo'  maw  dat  Mos'  Grif  an' 
ole  Mos'  mose  heah,  an'  she  better  git  dem  dar 
chicken  fixins  all  raidy  quick  as  ebber  she  kin. 
Dey  gwine  ter  be  hongry,  sho's  yo'  bohn,  dey 
is  dat." 

Lippy  Jane  sped  away  on  her  errand  with 
that  degree  of  enthusiasm  which  sprang  from  a 
consciousness  of  bearing  a  welcome  message 
to  expectant  listeners,  when  suddenly,  as  she 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  33 

passed  a  group  of  idle  compeers,  one  of  the 
boys  flung  upon  her  lower  lip,  where  it  lodged 
and  dangled  in  squirming  response  to  her  every 
motion,  a  long  yellow  apple  peeling.  She  did 
not  pause  in  her  onward  course,  but  called 
back  in  belligerent  tones  at  the  offender : 

"  I  des  gwine  ter  lef  dat  erlone  dar,  now,  an' 
show  hit  ter  Mos'  Grif  !  I  is  dat !  You  nasty 
little  nigger  !  "  and  she  reappeared,  after  giv 
ing  her  message  in  the  kitchen,  with  the  pen 
dant  peel  still  reposing  upon  the  superfluous 
portion  of  the  feature  to  which  she  was  in 
debted  for  her  name. 
3 


34  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE  KEY.  GRIFFITH  DAVENPOKT. 

So  desirable  a  candidate  was  speedily  or 
dained,  and  Brother  Prout  himself  rode  with 
the  boy  011  his  two  first  rounds  of  the  not  far- 
distant  circuit  which  was  soon  to  be  placed  in 
charge  of  this  youth  Avho  had  so  suddenly  taken 
on  the  duties,  responsibilities  and  desires  of  a 
man.  Grif's  temperament  had  always  been  so 
merry  and  frank  and  full  of  the  joyful  side  of 
life  that  he  found  himself  at  once  ill  at  ease  and 
hampered  by  the  feeling  that  he  must  curb  his 
spirits.  Brother  Prout,  whose  own  nature  was 
only  less  buoyant,  patted  Grif  on  the  back  and 
advised  against  the  change  which  he  clearly 
saw  the  boy  was  trying  to  compass. 

"Don't  grow  dull,  Brother  Davenport,"  he 
said  one  day,  as  they  were  riding  toward  the 
home  of  one  of  their  members  to  make  a 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  35 

pastoral  visit.  "  Don't  grow  dull  and  old  be 
fore  your  time.  Religion  is  joy,  not  gloom. 
Your  message  to  these  people  is  happiness. 
Let  your  bright  young  face  and  voice  bear  tes 
timony  for  the  Lord,  and  prove  to  them  that  all 
His  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  His 
paths  are  paths  of  peace.  Let  your  neighbors 
see  that  in  forsaking  your  old  life  you  have  not 
lost  the  best  and  most  glorious  part  of  it.  You 
take  that  with  you  in  addition  to  the  rest. 
Laugh  with  them  that  laugh,  and  weep  with 
them  that  weep.  I'm  an  old  man,  now,  and  I 
never  did  have  your  spirits  ;  but  we  need  just 
that  in  our  labors,  my  son.  Don't  allow  your 
self  to  grow  dull.  With  your  nature  you  will 
win  and  not  drive  souls  to  the  Lord." 

Such  advice  cheered  the  boy  and  made  him 
feel  less  strongly  the  great  change  in  his  life. 
The  long  hours  of  riding  his  fine  horse  over  the 
roads  and  by-paths  of  his  beloved  and  beautiful 
valley ;  the  talks  with  friends  or  strangers 
who  were  never  strangers  for  long,  since  mutual 
acquaintance  or  intermarriage  had  made  of  the 
whole  state  almost  one  family,  proved  attractive 
and  interesting  to  him.  He  found  in  this  new 


36  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

work  a  real  and  fresli  happiness.  Fording 
swollen  streams,  searching  for  obscure  mount 
ain  passes,  riding  alone  or  with  a  chance  com 
panion  through  extensive  stretches  of  woodland, 
listening  to,  and  often  answering  the  notes  of 
birds  or  the  cry  of  some  animal,  were  congenial 
occupations  to  the  young  parson,  and  his  form 
rounded  out  and  his  face  gradually  settled  into 
mature  but  gentle  and  kindly  lines,  and  it  was 
now  grown  to  be  his  invariable  rule  to  compose 
his  sermons  as  he  rode.  He  never  wrote  them. 
Some  text  would  fix  itself  in  his  mind  as  he 
read  his  little  black  Testament  night  or  morn 
ing,  and  upon  that  text  he  would  build  a 
simple  and  kindly  talk  which  reached  and 
touched  his  handful  of  listeners  as  no  elabora 
tion  of  rhetoric  could  have  done. 

Some  days  he  would  ride  along  for  miles, 
humming  or  singing  a  single  tune,  while  a  train 
of  thought  for  his  next  sermon  was  building 
itself  up  in  his  mind.  Selim,  the  fine  young 
sorrel,  knew  quite  well  what  to  do,  and  fell 
into  a  walk  or  a  gentle  canter,  according  to  the 
briskness  or  volume  of  the  notes  that  rose  over  his 
back.  If  "  How-tedious-and-tasteless-the-hours, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  37 

when-Jesus-no-longer-I-see,"  trailed  out  softly, 
with  long  and  undevised  breaks  in  the  continu 
ity  of  sound  and  sense,  Selim  walked  demurely, 
and  saw  no  ghosts  or  interesting  things  whatso 
ever  in  woods  or  stream  or  distant  valley.  But 
when  "  Joy  to  the  world !  The  Lord  has 
come  !  "  rang  out,  continuous  and  clear,  Selim 
knew  that  he  might  even  shy  at  a  stone,  and 
make  believe  a  set  state  of  terror  at  sight  of  a 
familiar  old  post  or  a  startled  groundhog  ;  or 
that  if  he  were  to  break  into  an  unexpected 
gallop,  no  harm  would  be  done,  and  that  he 
would  be  pretty  sure  of  some  playful  remarks 
And  a  bit  of  teasing  from  the  rider,  whose 
sermon,  Selim  knew  full  well,  was  finished. 
But  so  long  as  "  Joy  to  the  mm-mmmm-m- 

mmmm-mmm Let  earth  mmmm — mmmmm- 

mmmher  King,"  greeted  his  ears,  Selim  knew 
that  the  responsibility  of  ford  or  path  rested 
with  him,  and  many  a  ford  did  Selim  take 
before  his  rider  realized  that  he  had  come  to  it. 
If  swimming  were  necessary,  Selim  struck  out 
with  a  powerful  stroke,  and  came  up  on  the 
other  bank  with  a  proud  stamp  of  his  feet  and  a 
whinny  that  bid  for  the  recognition  of  his 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


prowess  that  he  knew  was  sure  to  come  -to 
him. 

"  Whoa,  old  fellow  !  Stop  and  get  your 
wind  !  Steady  !  That  was  a  pretty  stiff  cur 
rent,  wasn't  it  ?  There,  take  a  nibble  !  Been 
some  pretty  heavy  rains  around  here,  haven't 
there  ?  But  what  do  you  and  I  care  about  rains 
and  currents  ?  Whoa,  there,  you  rascal,  keep 
your  nose  off  my  sleeve  !  O,  you  will,  will 
you?  Well,  there,  there,  there,  I've  wiped  it 
all  off  as  good  as  ever.  T-h-a-t's  right  ;  nip  off 
some  of  these  fresh  buds.  Here,  let's  take  our 
bit  out.  Tastes  better,  doesn't  it  ?  Oh,  you  will, 
will  you,  old  wet  nose  ?  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  Selim, 
you  know  more  than  most  folks,  you  old  hum- 
bug!" 

If  his  master  sat  down  and  became  absorbed 
in  thought,  or  in  his  little  black  book,  Selim 
would  browse  about  for  an  hour  ;  but  at 
the  first  note  of  a  hymn  the  faithful  fellow 
came  to  have  his  bridle  replaced,  and  was  ready 
for  a  gallop  or  a  walk,  as  his  rider  should  indi 
cate. 

At  first  the  young  circuit  rider  would  take  a 
swollen  ford,  when  a  safer  one  could  have  been 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  39 

found  a  mile  or  two  farther  on,  or  he  would 
ride  miles  out  of  his  way  to  make  a  pass  in  the 
mountains,  when,  had  he  known  the  fact,  an 
obscure  but  safe  one  was  near  at  hand.  But,  as 
the  years  passed  by,  both  Selim  and  his  master 
would  have  scorned  a  guide,  and,  night  or  day, 
the  country  became  to  them  like  the  fields  of 
one's  own  estate,  so  familiar  were  they  with  it 
all.  In  this  pass  was  a  great  nesting  place, 
where,  year  after  year,  the  circuit  rider  talked 
aloud  to  the  birds,  and  fancied  that  they  knew 
him.  Many  a  friendly  note  of  reply  to  his 
whistle  or  call  gained  a  hearty  laugh. 

"Feel  jokey  to-day,  do  you,  you  ridiculous 
Bob  White  ?  Wish  I  could  translate  that  into 
English.  Know  it  was  a  good  joke  from  the 
twist  you  gave  it,  but  I'm  no  linguist.  You'll 
have  to  excuse  me  if  I  don't  reply  intelli 
gently,"  he  would  call  out  to  some  unusually 
individualized  note,  and  Selim  would  whisk  his 
tail  in  utter  disapproval  of  a  man  who  would  so 
foolishly  converse  with  birds — such  little  insig 
nificant  things  as  they  were — when  here  was  a 
full-grown,  blooded  horse,  right  under  his  nose ! 
The  pride  and  arrogance  of  species  is  great 


40  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

within  us  all — and  Selim  had  associated  much 
with  man. 

"  Hello  !  Where's  that  great-grandfather  of 
yours  that  I  saw  here  the  last  time  we  crossed 
your  ford  ?  "  Griffith  remarked  aloud  to  a  frisky 
little  trout,  as  it  whisked  past  Selim's  feet. 
"  Hope  nobody's  caught  him.  Give  him  my 
regards  when  you  get  home." 

Just  then  Selim's  feet  struck  the  bank,  and, 
as  he  scrambled  up,  he  shied  a  little,  and  his 
master  recognized  the  long  legs  before  him  as 
those  of  the  mountaineer  in  homespun  trousers 
and  hickory  shirt,  who  had  vexed  the  old  Major 
at  the  baptizing  in  the  Opquan  that  now  seemed 
so  long  ago. 

"  Good-morning "  began  the  young  min 
ister,  when  Lengthy's  gun  went  suddenly  to 
his  shoulder,  there  was  a  flash,  a  report,  Selim 
sprang  to  one  side,  and  the  mountaineer  poked 
with  his  gun  where  the  horse  had  stood. 
"  Look  down.  Say  nothin'.  Few  words  com 
prehend  th'  whole ;"  he  remarked  to  the  aston 
ished  circuit  rider,  as  he  held  up  on  the  end  of 
his  gun  a  still  writhing,  ugly,  dying  snake, 
which  had  been  coiled  to  spring.  He  was  too 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


confused,  or  too  mentally  embryonic  to  do  more 
than  grin  in  gratified  silence  at  the  thanks  and 
compliments  from  the  young  preacher  ;  for  it  was 
somewhat  infrequently  that  Lengthy  was  ad 
dressed  by  one  of  Griffith's  type,  and  the  very 
sincerity  of  his  evident  admiration  for  the  cir 
cuit  rider  still  farther  handicapped  his  already 
abnormally  developed  awkwardness  of  manner. 
It  is  possible  that  the  vocabulary  of  this  swarthy 
mountaineer  (whose  six  feet  and  seven  inches 
of  bone  and  sinew  had  fixed  upon  him  the  only 
name  that  Pastor  Davenport  had  ever  heard 
applied  to  him),  it  is  possible,  I  say,  that  his 
vocabulary  may  have  been  fuller  than  it  was 
generally  supposed  to  be.  Among  his  fellows 
it  is  just  possible  that  he  may  have  ventured 
upon  language  with  more  freedom  ;  but  certain 
it  is  that  when  Lengthy  was  in  the  presence  of 
what  he  was  pleased  to  call  "  quality,"  the  lim 
itations  were  painfully  apparent,  and  there  was 
a  legend — which  appeared  to  have  as  solid  a 
basis  as  belongs  to  most — that  whatever  slight 
variations  he  might  venture  upon  as  an  opening 
remark,  the  finale,  if  one  may  so  express  it,  was 
sure  to  be  the  same. 


42  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Mr.  Davenport  asked  after  his  health,  that  of 
his  family,  the  neighborhood  in  general  and 
finally,  unable  to  extract  anything  beyond  a  nod 
or  a  single  word  from  the  giant  who  had  pitched 
the  still  squirming  rattlesnake  from  the  end 
of  his  gun  into  the  river,  Griffith  took  another 
tack. 

"  River  seems  to  be  unusually  high.  Selim 
had  all  he  could  do,  didn't  you,  old  fellow  ? 
Been  having  a  freshet  here,  haven't  you  ?  " 

Lengthy  pointed  with  his  gun,  to  the  rem 
nants  of  a  rail  fence,  now  high  on  the  bank,  in 
the  top  rails  of  which  clung  half-dry  weeds  and 
river  refuse. 

"Look  there.  Few  words  comprehend  th' 
whole." 

Griffith  smiled,  gave  up  the  task  of  convers 
ing  with  his  admirer,  shook  the  bridle  on  Selim's 
neck  and  with  a  cheery  "  "Well,  I'm  glad  to  have 
met  you.  Good-bye,"  rode  on  toward  the 
village  where  he  was  soon  to  begin  his  first  year's 
pastorate  as  a  "  located  "  preacher.  As  he  rode 
along  he  almost  regretted  the  change.  These 
had  been  happy  years  to  the  simple-hearted,  but 
ardent  young  fellow ;  but  he  was  consoled  when 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  43 

lie  saw  before  him  in  mental  vision  the 
home  in  which  pretty,  black-eyed  Katherine 
LeRoy  was  to  preside — for  the  young  cir 
cuit  rider  had  found  his  fate  and,  alas !  it 
had  not  been  inside  the  Episcopal  paddock 
nor  even  in  the  Methodist  fold — such  pranks 
does  Fate  play  with  us,  such  liberties  does 
Cupid  take,  even  with  the  hearts  of  those 
whose  mission  it  is  to  deal  with  other  things  ! 
Very  early  in  the  new  life  Griffith  had  stayed 
one  night  at  the  hospitable  home  of  Katherine's 
father.  In  spite  of  all,  his  heart  was  lonely  and 
his  face  less  bright  than  in  the  old  days.  Miss 
Katherine  saw.  Miss  Katherine  was  kind — and 
Miss  Katherine's  sweet  face  traveled  many  a 
mile  with  the  young  preacher  after  he,  as  Selim 
was  well  aware,  should  have  been  humming  a 
hymn  and  composing  that  sermon  for  the  mor 
row.  But  Selim  was  discreet  ;  and  when  he 
shook  his  head  or  whinnied  or  changed  his  gait 
and  Griffith  did  not  heed,  Selim  plodded  de 
murely  on  and  waited.  But  as  the  months  had 
gone  by  and  Selim  had  carried  the  young 
master  up  the  same  lane  a  few  times  and  had 
observed  the  same  silent  abstraction  after  each 


44  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

visit,  he  had  grown  to  know  very  well  indeed 
that  this  was  a  marked  house  and  that  Griffith 
liked  to  go  there.  So  it  came  to  pass  that  after 
the  dark  eyes  had  traveled  with  the  young 
preacher  and  peered  over  his  shoulder  into  his 
Testament  and  interfered  sadly  with  the  trend 
of  his  thoughts  on  sacred  things,  it  had  grown  to 
be  very  certain  to  Griffith  that  something  would 
have  to  be  done.  Then  it  was  that  for  the  first 
time  he  thought  how  little  he  had  to  offer. 
Not  even  a  home  !  Not  even  his  own  companion 
ship  !  For  all  these  six  years  he  had  traveled 
his  different  circuits  and  slept  where  he  found 
himself  as  night  came  on,  and  preached  here  or 
there  as  he  had  been  directed.  His  home  had 
been  literally  in  his  saddle,  and  his  salary  had 
been  too  insignificant  to  mention.  The  old 
Major,  who  to  a  degree,  had  become  reconciled 
to  the  new  order  of  things,  had  at  first  insisted 
that  Jerry  follow  and  care  for  the  young 
master ;  but  Griffith  had  argued  that  it  ill  be 
came  one  who  had  taken  such  a  step  to  take 
with  him  a  body  servant,  and  it  had  almost 
broken  Jerry's  heart  to  be  compelled  to  stay  at 
the  old  home-place  and  allow  young  Mos'  Grif 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  45 

to  saddle  and  feed  Selim,  if  need  be,  and  care 
for  and  brush  his  own  clothes.  This  latter  had, 
indeed,  led  to  the  loss  of  most  of  his  limited 
wardrobe,  for  he  had  left  behind  him,  at  the 
house  of  some  "  member"  a  piece  of  clothing  or 
some  toilet  article  very  often,  at  the  first ;  but 
as  it  never  failed  to  be  returned  to  him  on  his 
next  round,  the  leather  saddle-bags  retained 
about  the  same  proportions  from  month  to 
month,  replenished  as  they  were  by  his  mother 
and  Jerry  on  his  frequent  visits  home. 

But  it  was  when  the  thought  of  a  wife  and  a 
home  of  his  own  first  came  to  Griffith  that  the 
life  of  a  circuit  rider  grew  less  attractive  and 
he  wondered  if  it  would  be  right  to  ask  to  be 
"  located  "  or  "  stationed  "  as  some  of  the  married 
men  were.  To  be  sure  they  must  change  their 
"  station  "  year  by  year  and  so  tear  up  the  little 
roots  they  could  strike  in  so  brief  a  period,  but 
at  least  it  gave  something  like  a  home  and  a 
"  charge "  to  the  preacher,  and  he — not  his 
family — was  the  sole  subject  of  solicitude  and 
consideration  to  the  authorities  who  governed 
his  movements.  Had  not  the  Lord  said  to  those 
whom  He  sent  forth  to  preach  that  they  must  go 


46  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


from  place  to  place  leaving  behind  all  family 
ties  ?  Had  not  He  so  lived  ?  Had  not  Paul 
and  Timothy  and  the  twelve  ?  Later  on  had  it 
not  been  so  with  the  many  until  wealth  and 
love  of  ease  and  the  things  of  this  world  un 
dermined  the  true  faith  ? 

But  human  nature  is  strong,  and  all  faiths  in 
the  past  have — as  all  in  the  future  will  continue 
to  do — accommodated  themselves  to  the  human 
needs  and  demands  of  those  who  sustain  the  the 
ory  as  infallible,  immutable,  unchangeable  and 
unchanging  ;  but  modify  it  to  fit  the  times,  the 
natures  and  the  conditions  in  which  they  strike 
root.  If  Mohammed  will  not  go  to  the  mount 
ain,  the  mountain  will  come  to  Mohammed. 

So  when  the  young  circuit  rider  had  stopped 
again,  as  had  grown  to  be  his  habit,  with  the 
family  of  Katherine  LeRoy,  and  when  she,  with 
quaint  coquetry,  had  met  his  equally  quaint 
courtship  by  finally  accepting  him  on  condition 
that  he  "  take  a  charge  "  he  had  asked  the  pre 
siding  elder  to  locate  him  as  a  married  man  for 
the  next  year  since  he  was  about  to  marry. 
Brother  Prout  had  approved,  and  the  matter  had 
been  settled  with  little  difficulty. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  47 

The  courtship  was  unique.  The  young  par 
son  had  grown  to  be  so  great  a  favorite  where- 
ever  he  went  that  his  cheerfulness,  his  kindly, 
simple  and  sincere  nature  insured  him  hearty 
welcome  even  outside  of  his  own  flock.  His 
superior  birth  and  breeding  made  him  a  marked 
man  within  his  denomination.  Many  were  the 
speculations  as  to  which  rosy-cheeked  Methodist 
girl  he  would  find  nearest  his  ideal,  and  jokes 
were  many  at  the  expense  of  this  or  that  one  if 
he  but  stopped  twice  at  her  father's  house. 

At  last  it  became  plain  that  in  one  neighbor 
hood  he  preferred  to  stay  overnight  with  the 
family  of  Bernard  LeRoy,  a  staunch  and  un 
compromising  Presbyterian,  and  it  did  not 
take  long  for  others  to  discover  why ;  but  so 
sure  was  Mr.  LeRoy,  himself,  that  it  was  to  his 
own  superiority  to  his  neighbors  that  the  visits 
were  due,  that  the  times  when  a  few  words 
alone  with  Miss  Katherine  were  possible  were 
few  indeed.  The  large,  ready,  hearty  hospi 
tality  of  the  time  and  of  Virginia  were  ex 
emplified  in  this  household.  All  welcomed 
him.  Old,  young,  white  and  black  alike  ;  and 
the  wide  porch  or  great  rooms  and  halls  gave 


48  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

space  and  hearty  invitation  to  family  and 
neighborly  gatherings.  So  it  came  about  that 
at  last  Griffith  felt  that  he  could  wait  no 
longer.  He  must  know  his  fate.  The  demure 
Katherine  had  reduced  him  to  a  mere  spirit  of 
unrest  in  spite  of  the  presence  of  others,  and 
while  all  sat  talking  of  crops,  politics,  religion, 
neighborhood  happenings,  rains,  swollen  streams 
and  the  recent  freaks  of  lightning,  the  young 
minister  took  from  his  pocket  the  little  black 
Testament  and  drew  a  line  around  the  words, 
"  Wilt  thou  go  with  this  man  ?  "  and  handing  it 
to  Miss  Katherine  he  asked :  "  Will  you  read 
and  answer  that  question  for  me,  Miss  Kath 
erine  ? "  Their  eyes  met,  and  although  Grif 
fith  returned  to  his  seat  and  essayed  to  go  on 
with  the  conversation  with  her  father,  they  both 
understood. 

Her  dark  eyes  ran  over  the  words,  her  color 
rose  and  fell,  but,  contrary  to  the  hope  of  the 
young  preacher,  she  did  not  mark  and  return  the 
reply.  She  carelessly  turned  the  leaves  and  his 
heart  sank.  He  gave  abstracted  replies  to  her 
father  and  twice  failed  to  hear  what  was  said, 
and  still  Miss  Katherine  turned  the  leaves.  At 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  49 

last  he  believed  that  she  had  either  not  under 
stood  or  that  she  did  not  intend  to  reply,  and 
with  a  sinking  heart  he  rose  to  go.  Selim  had 
been  put  away.  The  circuit  rider  was  always 
expected  to  stay  overnight.  He  explained  in 
a  vague  way  that  this  time  it  would  be  best  for 
him  to  go  to  a  Methodist  neighbor's  two  miles 
farther  on.  Was  it  that  reply  which  decided  dark- 
eyed  Katharine  not  to  farther  tease  her  lover  ? 
Did  she  fear  the  wiles  of  the  plump,  demure 
girl  in  the  quaint,  unribboned  bonnet  who  looked 
such  open  admiration  into  the  eyes  of  the  young 
preacher.  However  that  may  be,  certain  it  is 
that  at  this  juncture  and  under  cover  of  the 
general  movement  to  send  for  the  guest's  horse, 
Miss  Katherine  took  from  her  belt  a  pansy  and 
putting  it  between  the  pages  to  mark  where  she 
had  drawn  a  line,  she  gave  the  little  book  back 
to  its  owner.  He  saw  the  movement  and 
glanced  within  :  "  Why  have  I  found  grace  in 
thine  eyes  that  thou  shouldst  take  knowledge 
of  me — seeing  I  am  a  stranger  ?  "  He  read  and 
his  heart  leaped.  "  A  stranger !  "  She  was  not 
of  his  fold !  It  was  that  she  thought  of  !  He 

looked  at  her  and  both  understood.     He  could 
4 


50  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ride  away  now  and  both  would  be  content,  even 
though  he  were  under  the  roof  with  the  quaint 
little  Methodist  bonnet. 

As  they  moved  toward  the  door  the  two 
young  people  managed  to  pass  out  alone  and 
Griffith  took  her  in  his  arms  for  one  brief  in 
stant  and  kissed  her  lips. 

"  Thank  God ! "  he  whispered.  "  Thank 
God,  for  this  last  and  holiest  blessing  !  I  love 
you  next  to  my  Saviour,  Katherine.  Sometimes 
I  pray  it  may  not  be  more  than  I  love  Him." 

She  laughed,  a  soft  little  ripple,  and  drew 
back  just  as  her  father  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  I  shall  not  pray  that,"  she  said,  as  he 
mounted,  and  the  young  preacher  rode  away 
into  the  darkness  with  no  disapproval  of  the 
heresy  upon  his  radiant  face.  Selim  knew  that 
this  was  a  strange  proceeding — this  late  de 
parture — and  he  shook  his  head  so  violently 
that  the  buckles  of  his  bridle  rattled.  The 
young  minister  made  no  sign,  but  when,  a  little 
farther  on,  there  suddenly  arose  over  his  back, 
the  notes  of  a  long-forgotten  song,  Selim  cast 
one  eye  backward  and  started  at  the  break-neck 
pace  of  his  youth. 


AN  (INOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  51 

"  The  moon  is  beaming  brightly,  love, 

Te  turn  te  turn  te  te ! 
A  trusty  crew  is  waiting,  love, 
Away,  away  with  me!" 

Selim's  surprise  knew  no  bounds.  He  had 
not  heard  that  song  since  before  the  day  his 
young  master  went,  for  some  strange  reason, 
into  the  Opquan  river,  with  Brother  Prout. 
Something  unusual  had  happened,  that  was  very 
clear.  Something  that  carried  the  young 
preacher  quite  out  of  himself  and  into  a  world 
where  sermons  and  hymns  were  not;  and, 
although  the  song  was  guy,  Selim  felt  a  tug  at 
his  bridle  that  meant  a  slower  pace. 

"  Yea  !  old  fellow,  y-e-a !  "  Selim  was  sur 
prised  again.  He  stopped  short. 

"  G'ap  !  g'lang ! 

"  Far  o'er  the  deep,  o'er  the  deep,  o'er  the  d-e-e-e-p, 
Far  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea  ! 

Far  o'er  the  deep,  o'er  the  deep,  o'er  the  d-e-e-e-p, 
Far  o'er  the  deep  blue  sea  ! 

Oh,  come  and  share  a  sailor's  heart — far  o'er  the  deep 
blue  sea  ! " 

Perhaps  Selim  was  not  exactly  scandalized, 
but  he  felt  that  it  would  not  be  judicious  to 
i^ch  the  home  of  the  quaint  Methodist  bonnet 
too  prematurely.  And  Selim  walked. 


52  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER   V. 

A   MAN'S   CONSCIENCE. 

BUT  all  this  was  away  back  in  the  years  when 
you  and  I  were  not  born,  my  friend,  and,  there 
fore,  the  only  reason  I  tell  you  about  it  or 
expect  you  to  be  interested  in  such  simple  and 
far-off  lives  is  that  you  may  know  something  of 
the  early  habits  and  surroundings  of  the  man 
who,  I  began  by  warning  you,  became  a  law 
breaker  ;  for,  I  hold  it  to  be  a  self-evident  fact 
that  however  true  it  is  that  heredity  stamps  the 
character  with  its  basic  principles  and  qualities, 
it  is  never  wise  to  forget  that  it  is  to  environ 
ment,  circumstance  and  education  that  we 
owe  its  modifications  and  the  direction  of  its 
final  development.  But  now  that  you  will  be 
able  to  picture  to  yourself  the  man  as  he  then 
was,  and  his  surroundings  and  conditions,  I 
will  tell  you  as  directly  as  I  can  the  story  of 
his  offense  ;  but  first  I  must  explain  that  when 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  53 

his  coming  marriage  to  Miss  Katherine  LeRoy 
was  announced  at  his  home,  the  old  Major 
objected  again,  but  this  time  more  mildly,  to 
the  choice  his  son  had  made. 

"  Her  people  are  good,  wholesome,  respect 
able  folks,  my  son,"  he  said  ;  "  but — but,  Grif, 
why  couldn't  you  have  found  a  girl  of — well, 
one  of  the  families  you  were  brought  up  with. 
Mind,  boy,  I'm  not  saying  anything  against 
Miss  Katherine.  I've  heard — and  I  don't  doubt 
it — that  she  is  a  mighty  nice  sort  of  a  girl; 
but " 

The  Major  had  grown  milder  in  his  methods 
with  his  son,  and  he  hesitated  to  speak  words 
which  might  cause  pain  hereafter. 

"  Of  course,  Grif,"  he  went,  on  after  an 
awkward  pause,  "of  course,  if  you  love  each 
other — and — and — well,  if  the  thing  is  set 
tled,  I  have  only  to  congratulate  you,  and  to 
say  that  I  am  truly  glad  to  have  you  settle 
down,  so  I'll  be  able  to  know  where  you 
are.  It's  deucedly  disagreeable  not  to  know 
frpm  week  to  week  where  to  put  a  finger  on 
hpu — such  a  tacky  sort  of  shifty  sensation 
about  it.  I  t-u.l  know  now  at  least  a  year  at 


54  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

a  time.  Perfectly  ridiculous  custom  it  is  to 
move  a  preacher  just  when  he  gets  acquainted 
with  the  people,  and  they  begin  to  trust  him ! 
Infernal  habit !  I'd  as  soon  live  on  a  boat  and 
just  anchor  from  time  to  time  in  another  stream 
and  call  it  home — and — and  living.  I've  come 
to  respect  your  sincerity,  Grif,  but  I  can't  re 
spect  the  sense  of  a  denomination  that  has  no 
idea  of  the  absolute  value  of  stability,  of  con 
tinuity  of  association,  between  its  pastor  and  its 
people.  Why,  just  look  at  the  thing  !  It  up 
roots  the  best  sentiments  in  both,  and  makes  a 
wanderer  of  one  who  ought  to  be,  not  only  by 
precept,  but  by  example,  stable  and  faithful  and 
continuously  true  to  those  who  look  up  to  him. 
Why,  a  scamp  can  pose  for  a  year  or  two  as  a 
saint ;  but  it  takes  real  value  to  live  a  lifetime 
in  a  community  and  be  an  inspiration  and  a 
guide  to  your  members.  Then  just  look  at  it ! 
Nobody  who  has  any  self-respect  is  going  to 
talk  of  his  inner  life  to  a  stranger  !  We  are  all 
alike  in  that.  We  pose  and  pretend  and  keep 
our  shutters  up,  mentally  and  morally,  with  a 
new-comer.  Gad  !  I  can't  see  the  wisdom  nor 
the  sense  of  any  such  rules." 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  55 

"  Has  its  good  points,  father,"  said  Grif, 
whose  quiet  chuckle  from  time  to  time  had 
stirred  the  Major  to  unusual  earnestness.  He 
wanted  to  get  at  his  son's  real  views  on  the 
subject.  "  Has  some  redeeming  qualities,  after 
all,  father,  quite  aside  from  the  Bible  teaching 
upon  which  the  leaders  of  our  church  base  it. 
There  are  men — even  ministers,  I'm  afraid, 
whom  one  enjoys  much  better  when  they  are 
on  another  circuit ;  and  I  may  as  well  confess 
to  you  that  there  are  circuits  a  man  enjoys  a 
good  deal  better  when  he's  not  on  them — after 
he  has  left." 

"  Some  of  the  old  boy  in  you  yet,  Grif," 
laughed  the  Major,  slapping  his  son  on  the  back. 
"  Better  not  say  that  to  Father  Front,  or  he  will 
keep  you  on  one  of  that  kind  for  discipline." 

Jerry  was  filled  with  delight  when  told  of 
the  coming  marriage  of  Mos'  Grif.  Jerry's  own 
wife  had  long  since  presented  him  with  twins, 
and  it  was  his  delight  to  show  off  the  antics  of 
these  small  ebony  creatures  to  Griffith  when 
ever  he  was  at  home.  It  was  at  first  arranged 
that  this  family  only  should  go  to  form  the 
new  household. 


56  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

The  rautterings  born  in  a  different  clime  and 
under  other  conditions  had  now  reached  propor 
tions  which  could  not  be  wholly  ignored.  In 
many  a  long  ride  over  the  mountain  or  valley 
paths  in  the  past  few  years  had  Griffith  pondered 
the  question,  and  he  had  definitely  decided  in  his 
own  mind  that  for  one  who  had  cast  his  lot  with 
the  itinerant  Methodist  clergy,  at  least,  the 
ownership  of  slaves  was  wrong.  He  would 
never  buy  nor  sell  a  human  being.  Upon  that 
point  his  mind  was  clearly  and  unalterably  made 
up.  But  Jerry  and  his  family  were  to  be  a 
part  of  the  new  household  while  yet  they 
remained,  as  before,  the  old  Major's  property. 
To  this  Griffith  had  consented  readily,  for  Miss 
Katherine  must  have  an  efficient  cook  and 
Jerry  would  be  of  infinite  use.  Griffith  had 
drawn  a  picture  of  a  small  house  in  the  village 
in  which  this  beautiful  dream  of  his  was  to  be 
realized  ;  but,  as  the  time  drew  near,  the  old 
Major  developed  his  own  plans  with  such  skill 
as  to  carry  his  point. 

When  the  house  was  to  be  looked  for  he 
said  :  "  See  here,  Grif,  you  are  a  good 
deal  younger  than  I  am,  and  some  of  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  57 

older  slaves  are  pretty  hard  to  manage.  They 
can't  work  a  great  deal,  and  they  get  into 
mischief  one  way  and  another.  Look  at  that 
set  over  in  the  end  cabin — they  always  did 
like  you  best — and  since  you  have  been  gone  so 
much  they  are  a  good  deal  of  trouble  to  me. 
They've  got  to  be  cared  for  somehow.  I  wish 
you'd  take  them.  They  can  do  a  lot  of  useful 
things  if  they  are  away  from  the  others,  and  you 
can  get  twice  as  much  work  out  of  them  as  I 
can.  They  are  stubborn  with  me,  and  it  wears 
my  soul  out  to  deal  with  'em.  I've  needed 
your  help  a  good  many  times  since  you've  been 
away,  but  I  did  not  like  to  say  much.  I  think, 
now  you  are  going  to  settle  down,  that  you 
ought  to  think  of  your  father's  needs  a  little, 
too." 

Grif  winced.  He  recalled  that  he  had 
always  pushed  his  father's  problem  aside  in 
his  thoughts  when  he  had  settled  or  solved  his 
own.  He  realized  how  unfair  that  was  He 
felt  the  force  of  the  Major's  complaint. 

"  Of  course,  I'll  do  anything  I  can,  father, 
to  help  you  ;  but  I  can't  take  a  lot  of  negroes  to 
a  village  and " 


58  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  That's  just  it  !  Just  it,  exactly  !  Of  course 
you  can't.  I  didn't  intend  to  ask  you  just  yet, 
but  I  want  you  to  give  up  that  foolish  idea 
of  taking  Katherine  to  town  to  live.  She  can't 
stand  it.  You  are  asking  enough  of  a  woman, 
God  knows,  to  ask  her  to  put  up  with  your  sort 
of  life  anyhow,  let  alone  asking  a  girl  that  has 
been  respectably  brought  up  on  a  plantation  to 
give  all  that  up  and  go  to  a  miserable  little 
village.  It  is  not  decent  to  live  that  way  ! 
Cooped  up  with  a  lot  of  other  folks  in  a  string 
of  narrow  streets  !  I'd  a  good  deal  rather  go  to 
jail  and  done  with  it.  Now,  what  I  want  and 
what  I  need  you  to  do,  is  to  take  that  other 
plantation — the  one  down  on  the  river — your 
grandfather's  place — and  take  some  of  the 
hands  down  there  and  you  can  let  them  work 
the  place.  How  in  the  name  of  thunder  do  you 
suppose  you  and  Katherine  are  going  to  live  on 
your  ridiculous  salary  ?  Salary !  It  isn't  enough 
to  dignify  by  the  name  of  wages — let  alone 
salary  !  Y'  can't  live  on  it  to  save  your  lives. 
Katherine  can't " 

"But,  father " 

"  That  farm  down  there  is  plenty  near  enough 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  59 

to  town  for  you  to  ride  in  every  single  day  if  you 
want  to  and — look  here,  boy,  don't  you  think 
you  owe  a  little  something  to  your  father  ?  I'm 
getting  old.  You  don't  begin  to  realize  how 
hard  it  is  on  me  to  meet  all  these  difficulties 
that  other  men's  sons  help  them  with." 

The  Major  had  struck  that  chord  with  full 
realization  of  its  probable  effect,  and  he  watched 
with  keen  relish  the  troubled  and  shamed  look 
on  the  face  before  him.  Griffith  made  a  move 
ment  to  speak,  but  the  Major  checked  him  with 
a  wave  of  the  hand. 

"  That  farm  is  just  going  to  wreck  and  ruin, 
and  I  haven't  the  strength  to  attend  to  that 
and  this  both.  Besides,  these  negroes  have  got 
to  be  looked  after  better.  Pete  is  growing  more 
and  more  sullen  every  year,  and  Lippy  Jane's 
temper  is  getting  to  be  a  holy  terror.  She  and 
Pete  nearly  kill  each  other  at  times.  They  had 
a  three-cornered  fight  with  Bradley's  mulatto, 
Ned,  the  other  day,  and  nearly  disabled  him. 
Bradley  complained,  of  course.  Now,  just 
suppose  Ned  dies  and  Bradley  sues  me  ?  It 
seems  to  me  it  is  pretty  hard  lines  when  a  man 
has  a  son  and " 


60  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


"  But,  father- 


"  Now,  look  here,  Grif,  don't  '  but '  me  any 
more.  I've  had  that  house  on  the  other  place 
all  put  in  order  and  the  negro  quarters  fixed  up. 
The  negroes  can  belong  to  me,  of  course,  if 
you  still  have  that  silly  idea  in  your  head 
about  not  wanting  to  own  them,  but  you  have 

got  to  help  me  with  them  or Then  damn 

it  all,  Grif,  I  don't  intend  it  to  be  said  that 
a  daughter-in-law  of  mine  has  to  live  in  a 
nasty  little  rented  house  without  so  much  as  a 
garden  patch  to  it.  It  is  simply  disgraceful 
for  you  to  ask  her  to  do  it !  I " 

"  Father,  father  I  "  said  Grif,  with  his  voice 
trembling ;  "  I — you  are  always  so  good  to  me, 
but  I— I " 

The  old  Major  looked  over  his  glasses  at  his 
son.  Each  understood,  and  each  feigned  that  he 
did  not.  The  Major  assumed  wrath  to  hide  his 
emotion.  "  Now,  look  here,  Grif,  I  don't  want  to 
hear  anything  more  about  this  business  !  You 
make  me  mad  !  Who  am  I  to  go  to  for  help  in 
managing  my  land  and  my  niggers  if  I  can't  de 
pend  on  you  for  a  single  thing?  That's  the 
question.  Confound  it  all !  I'm  tired  out,  I  tell 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  61 

you,  looking  after  the  lazy  lot,  and  now  you  can 
take  your  share  of  the  work.  What  am  I  going 
to  do  with  the  gang  if  I've  got  to  watch  'em 
night  and  day,  to  see  that  they  are  kept  busy 
enough  not  to  get  into  trouble  with  each  other, 
and  get  me  in  trouble  with  my  neighbors.  Just 
suppose  Pete  had  killed  Bradley's  Ned,  then 
what  ?  Why,  I'd  have  been  sued  for  a  $1,000 
and  Pete  would  have  been  hung  besides  !  I  tell 
}rou,  boy,  I'm  too  old  for  all  this  worry,  and  I 
think  it's  about  time  I  had  a  little  help  from 

you.    I--" 

The  young  preacher  winced  again  under  the 
argument,  although  he  knew  that  in  part,  at 
least,  it  was  made  for  a  purpose  other  than  the 
one  on  the  surface.  In  part  he  knew  it  was 
true.  He  knew  that  his  father  had  found  the 
task  heavy  and  irksome.  He  knew  that  the 
negroes  preferred  his  own  rule,  and  that  they 
were  happier  and  more  tractable  with  him  than 
with  the  old  'Squire.  He  knew  that  as  the 
times  had  grown  more  and  more  unsettled  and 
unsettling,  his  father  had  twice  had  recourse 
to  a  hired  overseer  and  that  the  results  had 
been  disastrous  for  all.  He  knew  that  other 


62  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

sons  took  much  of  this  care  and  responsibility 
from  the  aging  shoulders  of  their  fathers.  He 
hesitated — and  was  lost.  He  would  take  the 
negroes  with  him  and  live  on  the  other  place 
— at  least  one  year  ! 

But  when  Miss  Katherine  brought  with  her 
her  father's  gift  of  slaves — which  Mr.  LeRoy  had 
tried  hard  to  make  sufficiently  numerous  to  im 
press  the  old  Major — Grif,  to  his  dismay,  found 
himself  overseer  and  practically  the  owner  of 
twenty-two  negroes — and  he  on  a  salary  of  $200 
per  year  !  With  a  plantation  to  work,  the  matter 
of  salary  was,  of  course,  of  minor  importance. 
But  Griffith  had  not  failed  to  see  glimpses  of  a 
not  far-distant  future,  in  these  past  few  years  as 
he  had  read  or  heard  the  urgent  questions  of 
political  policy  which  had  now  become  so  insistent 
in  the  newer  border  states — a  future  in  which 
this  life  must  be  changed.  Riots  and  bloodshed, 
he  knew,  had  followed  in  the  train  of  argu 
ment  and  legislative  action.  Slaves  had  run 
away  and  been  tracked  and  returned  to  angry 
masters.  But  the  basic  question  as  to  whether 
it  was  right  for  man  to  hold  property  in  man 
had,  so  far,  been  presented  to  his  mind  in 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  63 

the  form  of  a  religious  scruple  and  with  a 
merely  personal  application.  Should  ministers 
of  his  Church  buy  and  sell  black  men  ?  Griffith 
had  definitely  settled  in  his  own  mind  that  they 
should  not.  But  whether  they  should  inherit 
or  acquire  by  marriage  such  property,  had, 
until  now,  hardly  presented  a  serious  face  to 
him.  And  now,  in  the  form  in  which  they  came 
to  him,  he  saw  no  present  way  out  of  the 
difficulty  even  had  he  greatly  desired  it. 

I  have  no  doubt  that  to  you,  my  friend,  who 
were  not  born  in  these  troublous  times,  and  to 
you,  my  neighbor,  who  lived  in  another  latitude, 
the  problem  looks  simple  enough.  "  He  could 
free  the  slaves  which  were  in  his  power,"  will 
be  your  first  thought.  "  I  would  have  done 
that,"  is  your  next,  and  yet  it  is  dollars  to 
doughnuts  that  you  would  have  done  nothing 
of  the  kind.  Oh,  no  !  I  am  not  reflecting  upon 
your  integrity,  nor  your  parsimony — although 
I  have  not  observed  any  tendency  you  may  have 
toward  dispensing  with  your  property  by  gift — 
but  to  other  and  more  complicated  and  complicat 
ing  questions  with  which  you  would  have  found 
yourself  surrounded,  and  with  which  your  pri- 


64  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

vate  inclinations  would  have  come  into  violent 
collision,  as  Griffith  Davenport  discovered  ;  and 
surely,  my  friend,  you  would  not  care  to  be 
written  up  in  future  years  as  a  violator  of  the 
law — you  who  value  so  lightly  "  that  class  of 
people  "  that  you  have  often  said,  quite  openly, 
that  you  cared  very  little  to  even  read  about 
them,  and  deplored  the  fact  that  writers  would 
thrust  them  into  respectable  literature  ! 

Griffith  had  watched  the  coining  storm  in  the 
southwest.  He  had  hoped  and  prayed  (and 
until  now  he  had  believed)  that  for  himself,  at 
least,  the  question  was  settled.  He  would  never 
own  slaves,  therefore  he  would  not  be  called 
upon  to  bear  any  personal  part  in  the  coming 
struggle.  But  a  wife's  property  was  a  husband's 
property  in  Virginia,  in  those  far-off  barbaric 
days,  and  so  Griffith  found  himself  in  an  anoma 
lous  position,  before  he  knew  it,  for  Mr.  LeRoy 
had  given  Katherine  her  slaves  as  a  marriage 
portion,  and  had  striven  to  make  sure  that  their 
number  and  quality  should  do  honor  to  the 
daughter-in-law  of  her  prospective  husband's 
father.  Mr.  LeRoy  had  an  exalted  opinion  of 
the  position  and  importance  of  the  old  Major — • 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  65 

or  as  he  always  called  him,  of  "old  'Squiah 
Davenpoaht." 

But  so  matters  stood  until,  a  few  years  later, 
an  accident  happened,  which  resulted  in  the 
death  of  the  old  Major.  When  the  will  was 
opened,  Griffith  found  himself  forced  to  con 
front  the  question  of  ownership  of  slaves,  fairly 
if  not  fully.  The  will  left  "to  my  beloved 
son,  Griffith,  all  the  slaves  now  living  with  him, 
together  with  the  farm  upon  which  he  now  lives 
and  the  old  homestead;  with  the  admonition 
that  he  care  for  and  protect  the  old  slaves  and 
train  and  employ  the  young."  His  other  prop 
erty  was  devised  in  accordance  with  his  wishes, 
leaving  to  his  grandchildren  and  distant  rela 
tives  the  other  slaves  and  live  stock. 

Meantime,  as  this  would  indicate,  there  had 
been  born  to  Griffith  several  children — three 
boys  and  a  little  baby  girl — which  now  filled 
the  hearts  and  home  with  life  and  joy. 

The  exigencies  of  his  ministerial  life  had  so 
far  made  it  necessary  for  him  to  leave  the 
plantation  but  twice.  Father  Prout  had 
managed  to  have  his  "stations"  rotate  from 

one  small  town  to  another  in   the   immediate 
5 


66  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

vicinity,  and,  with  his  growing  stoutness,  Mr. 
Davenport  had  taken  to  driving,  chiefly,  since 
Selim  had  been  retired  from  active  service,  to 
and  from  his  places  of  meeting  week  after 
week.  Twice,  for  a  year  each  time,  he  had 
been  compelled  to  leave  the  plantation  in  charge 
of  Jerry  and  remove  to  a  more  distant  town, 
where  the  small  house  and  unaccustomed  con 
ditions  had  resulted  in  ill  health  for  Katherine 
and  the  children.  But  now  they  were  on  the 
"  place  "  again  and  were  owners  of  much  that 
required  that  they  face  larger  and  more  com 
plicated  responsibilities — and  what  was  to  be 
done?  Griffith  had  made  up  his  mind,  defi 
nitely,  that  he  did  not  want  his  sons  to  grow  up 
in  a  slave-owning  atmosphere.  He  had  read 
and  thought  much  of  the  struggle  over  the 
Missouri  Compromise  Bill.  He  had  hoped  great 
things  from  it,  and  had  beheld  its  final  repeal 
with  dismay.  He  had  seen,  so  he  believed,  in 
it  the  arm  that  was  destined  to  check  if  not  to 
wipe  out  human  slavery.  How  this  was  to  be 
done  he  did  not  know ;  but  that  he  hoped  for 
it,  for  all  men,  he  knew.  For  himself  he  was 
quite  sure  that  as  a  preacher,  if  not  as  a  man,  it 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  67 

was  wrong.  He  liad  determined  to  so  educate 
his  sons  that  they  would  not  blame  him  for 
shutting  them  out  from  at  least  the  inherited 
possibilities  of  the  institution  which  had  fallen 
upon  him.  But  now,  what  could  be  done  ?  The 
Major's  will  had  thrown  the  task  definitely  upon 
him  and  had  greatly  increased  the  difficulties. 
He  knew  that  it  was  against  the  laws  of  his  state 
to  free  the  negroes  and  leave  them  within  its 
borders.  Exactly  what  the  terms  of  the  law 
were,  he  did  not  know ;  but  it  was  easy  to 
realize  its  need  and  force.  Free  negroes  were 
at  once  a  menace  to  all  parties  concerned,  both 
white  and  black.  They  had  no  work,  no  homes, 
no  ties  of  restraint  and  responsibility.  They 
were  amenable  to  no  one  and  no  one  was  their 
friend.  They  could  starve,  or  they  could  steal, 
or  they  could  go  North.  If  they  did  the  first — 
in  a  laud  of  plenty — they  were  not  made  of  that 
stuff  out  of  which  human  nature  is  fashioned, 
be  that  nature  encased  in  a  white  or  in  a  black 
skin.  If  they  did  the  second  they  fared  far 
worse  than  slaves — the  chain-gang  for  home 
and  the  law  for  a  driver  has  horrors  worse  than 
even  slavery — at  least  so  thought  the  colored 


68  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

man  of  1852.  But  if  they  attempted  to  achieve 
the  last  of  the  three  alternatives  their  lot  was 
hardest  of  all.  They  must  leave  home,  family, 
wife,  children,  parents  and  friends — all  that 
made  life  endurable  to  a  patient,  affectionate, 
simple  nature — and  find  what?  Neither  friends, 
welcome  nor  work !  A  climate  in  which  they 
suffered,  a  people  amongst  whom  their  rarity 
and  the  strangeness  of  their  speech  and  color 
made  of  them  objects  of  curiosity  and  aversion 
— where  the  very  children  fled  from  them  in 
fright — little  children  like  those  whom  they  had 
nursed  and  fondled  and  who  always  had  loved 
them  !  They  would  find  the  prejudice  against 
their  color  intense  beyond  belief,  for  few  indeed 
were  the  men  or  women  in  the  free  states  who 
would  give  work  of  any  kind  to  these  strange- 
looking  and  stranger-speaking  creatures.  In 
deed,  no  one  was  more  shocked  to  learn  than 
was  Griffith,  that  in  some  of  the  border 
states  it  was  illegal  to  give  employment  to 
these  ex-slaves.  All  this  Griffith  was  destined 
to  learn  to  his  cost.  He  knew,  already,  that 
slaves  trained  as  his  father's  were,  had  no  concep 
tion  of  hard  and  constant  work  such  as  was 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  69 

demanded  of  the  northern  laborer.  He  knew 
that  they  could  not  hope  to  compete  with  white 
workmen  in  a  far-away  field  of  labor  even  could 
they  get  the  work  to  do.  He  knew  that  they 
would  be  the  sport — where  they  were  not  the 
game  and  victims — of  those  white  laborers.  He 
knew  that  the  employer  (were  they  so  fortunate 
as  to  find  one)  would  not  be  slow  to  learn  that 
they  accomplished  less  and  ate  more  than  did 
their  white  rivals.  That  alone  would,  of 
course,  settle  their  chances  of  competition,  and 
starvation  or  crime  would  again  become  their 
only  alternative. 

A  freed  slave,  in  a  country  where  slavery 
still  existed,  was  a  sorry  and  unhappy  spectacle  ; 
but  a  freed  slave  in  competition  with  freemen 
was  a  tragedy  in  black  ! 

Griffith  had  fought  his  battle  alone.  It  is  true 
that  he  had  talked  much  with  his  wife  on  the 
subject,  and  it  is  also  true  that  her  faith  in  and 
love  for  him  made  her  ready  acquiescence  in  his 
final  decision  a  matter  of  course ;  but  with  no 
outlook  into  the  political  world,  with  no  mental 
scope  beyond  the  horizon  prescribed  as  suitable 
for  women,  she  could  give  him  nothing  but  loy- 


70  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

alty.  She  could  echo  his  sentiments.  She 
could  not  stimulate  or  aid  his  thought.  Attuned 
to  follow,  she  could  not  lead,  and  was  equally 
unfitted  to  keep  even  step  with  him  side  by  side. 
She  did  not  share,  nor  could  she  understand, 
her  husband's  acute  mental  misgivings  and  fore 
bodings.  The  few  times  she  had  spoken  to  her 
father  of  them,  he  had  said  that  she  need  not 
worry.  "  Griffith  is  no  fool.  He'll  get  over 
this  idiotic  notion  before  long.  It  is  reading 
those  damned  Yankee  speeches  that  is  the 
trouble  with  him.  You  just  be  patient.  He'll 
get  over  it.  The  old  'Squire  knew  how  to  cure 
him.  Like  to  know  what  he'd  do  with  all  those 
niggers  ?  But  Griffith  is  no  fool,  I  tell  you,  if 
he  is  a  Methodist."  Katherine  had  not  relished 
the  last  remark,  and  she  did  not  believe  that 
her  father  quite  comprehended  how  deep  a  hold 
on  Griffith  the  idea  of  freedom  for  the  blacks — 
and  freedom  from  ownership  of  them  for  him 
self — had  taken  ;  but  she  was  silenced. 


AN  V80XP1CXAL  PATRIOT.  71 


CHAPTER  VI. 

"My  conscience  whispers." — SJiakespeare. 

BUT  at  last  the  crisis  came.  One  of  the  girls — 
Sallie,  a  faithful  creature — had  married  "  Brad- 
ley's  John,"  and  now  John  was  about  to  be  sold 
and  sent  to  Georgia.  Either  John  must  be  sepa 
rated  from  his  wife  and  child,  or  Sallie  must  be 
sold,  or  Mr.  Davenport  must  buy  John  and 
keep  him  here !  The  final  issue  had  come ! 
John  begged  to  be  bought.  Sallie  pleaded  not 
to  be  allowed  to  be  sold,  nor  to  be  separated 
from  her  husband.  Katherine  agreed  to  plead 
for  Sallie,  who  had  been  her  own  playmate  ever 
since  she  could  remember. 

"  Git  Mos'  Grif  ter  buy  John,  Mis'  Kate  !  Fo' 
God's  sake,  Mis'  Kate,  git  'im  ter  buy  John ! 
Yoh  kin.  I  knows  mon'sous  well  dat  yoh  kin  ! 
He  gwine  ter  do  jes'  what  yoh  tell  'im  ter.  I 
knows  dat  he  is,  Mis'  Kate  !  " 

Mr.  Davenport  was  in  his   study.     Katherine 


72  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

had  explained  the  case  to  him  fully,  and  Sallie's 
black  face  peered  in  behind  him,  with  anxious 
eyes,  watching  and  listening  to  her  mistress. 

"  Katherine,  I  cannot !  I  cannot  pay  money 
for  a  human  being.  I  have  yielded,  step  by  step, 
to  what  I  felt  was  wrong  long  ago,  until 
now  I  am  caught  in  the  tangled  threads  of  this 
awful  system — but  I  cannot !  I  cannot  pay 
money  for  a  human  soul !  " 

Suddenly  Sallie  fell  at  his  feet,  and,  swaying 
to  and  fro,  swung  her  sturdy  frame  like  a  reed 
in  the  wind. 

"  Oh,  Mos'  Grif,  fo'  God's  sake,  buy  John  ! 
Ain't  yo'  got  no  mussy,  Mos'  Grif  ?  Don'  let 
dat  Mos'  Bradley  sen'  John  'way  off  dar !  I 
gwine  ter  die  right  heah,  if  yo'  don'  hep  me, 
Mos'  Grif  !  Ain't  I  been  a  good  girl  ?  Ain't  I 
nus  de  chillun  good,  an'  did'n  I  pull  Mos'  Bev 
erly  outen  de  crick  when  he  fall  in  an'  wus  mose 
drownded  ?  Oh,  f o'  Christ's  sake,  Mos'  Grif,  buy 
my  John  !  He  gwine  ter  wuk  fo'  yoh  all  his 
life  long,  an'  he  gwine  ter  be  good  ! " 

She  swayed  and  wept  and  moaned.  She  held 
her  baby  to  her  breast  and  cried  out  for  John, 
and  then  she  held  it  out  toward  Griffith  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  73 

stared  through  streaming  eyes  at  his  face  to  see 
if  he  had  relented.  And  still  Griffith  was 
silent.  His  teeth  were  set  tight  together,  and 
his  nails  cut  his  palms,  but  he  said  not  a  word. 

«Mos'  Grif,  Mos'  Grif !  what  did  God 
A'mighty  gib  yoh  all  dis  Ian'  an'  houses  an' 
money  fo'  ?  What  He  gib  yoh  my  Mis'  Kath'- 
rine  fo'?  'Cause  He  know  yoh  gwine  ter  be 
good  an'  kine,  an' — an'  datyoh  gwine  ter  be  good 
ter  us  !  Mos'  Grif,  de  good  Lawd  ain't  fo'got 
we  alls  des  kase  we  black !  " 

She  rolled  the  baby  on  the  floor  beside  her 
and  grasped  both  of  her  master's  clenched  hands, 
and  struggled  to  open  them  as  she  talked.  She 
seemed  to  think  if  they  would  but  relax  that  he 
would  yield. 

"  Mos'  Grif,  we  bofe  gwine  ter  wuk  fo'  yoh, 
an'  pray  fo'  yoh,  and  dat  baby,  dar,  gwine  ter 
wuk  an'  pray  fo'  yoh  all  ouh  lifes  long — all  de 
days  ob  ouh  lifes,  des  fo'  dat  little,  teenchy  six 
hund'ud  dollahs,  what  Mos'  Bradley  got  ter  hab 
f o'  John !  All  ouh  lifes  long  !  All  ouh  lifes 
long,  we  gwine  ter  wuk  and  pray  fo'  yoh,  des 
fo'  dat  little,  teenchy  six  hund'ud  dollahs  ! ! " 

Mrs.  Davenport  put  her  hand   on   her  hus- 


74  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

band's  shoulder.  Her  eyes  were  wet  and  her 
lips  trembled. 

"  Griffith,  what  harm  can  it  do  ?  And  see 
how  much  good  !  Griffith,  we  will  all  love  you 
better  if  you  will.  I  can't  bear  to  see  Sallie  the 
way  she  has  been  these  last  two  months — ever 
since  it  was  decided  to  sell  John  to  that  man 
when  he  comes.  It  is  heart-breaking.  You 
know,  darling,  she  played  with  me  ever  since 
we  were  babies,  and  she  has  been  so  good  to  my 
children — our  children,  Griffith  !  "  She  low 
ered  her  voice  to  a  mere  whisper :  "  Can  God 
want  you  to  be  so  cruel  as  this,  Griffith  ?  " 

Mr.  Davenport  had  never  dreamed  that  any 
thing  he  might  feel  it  his  duty  to  do  would 
seem  to  his  wife  like  cruelty.  It  hurt  him 
sorely.  He  looked  up  at  her  with  a  drawn  face. 

"  Katherine,"  he  said,  "  let  us  give  Sallie  her 
freedom,  and  let  her  go  with  John." 

"  No,  no,  no,  no !  I  ain't  gwine  ter  go  wid 
dat  man !  I  ain't  gwine  ter  be  no  free  wife  nig 
ger,  'pendin'  on  him  !  I  ain't  gwine  ter  leabe 
Mis'  Kath'rine,  nedder ! "  She  arose  in  her 
fear,  which  was  turning  to  wrath.  "  Mis'  Kate, 
yoh  ain't  gwine  ter  let  him  gib  me  away,  is 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  75 

yoh?  I  don'  belong  to  nobody  ter  gib  away, 
but  des  ter  my  Mis'  Kate,  an'  she  ain't  gwine 
ter  gib  me  'way  arter  I  done  nus  her  chillun  ail' 
save  de  life  of  Mos'  Beverly !  Dat  ain't  de  kine 
o'  lady  my  Mis'  Kate  is  !  O  Mis'  Kate,  Mis' 
Kate !  I  done  wisht  yoh'd  a-gone  and  married 
dat  Mos'  Tom  Harrison  dat  time  wat  'e  ax  you ! 
He  don't  lub  money  dat  much  dat  he  can't  spahr 
a  little  six  hund'ud  dollahs  ter  sabe  me  an' 
John  an' — an' — an'  dis  heah  baby !  " 

She  caught  up  the  baby  from  the  floor  again 
and  held  it  toward  her  master. 

"  Dar !  take  hit  an'  kill  hit  fus'  as  well  as 
las' !  kase  I  gwine  ter  die,  an'  hit  gwine  ter  be 
my  Mos'  Grif  dat  kill  bofe  of  us.  God  gwine 
ter  know  'bout  dat !  John  gwine  ter  tell  'im  ! 
Jesus  gwine  ter  know  dat  six  little  hund'ud 
doilahs  is  wuf  more  ter  my  Mos'  Grif  dan  me 
an'  yoh  an'  John,"  she  moaned,  holding  the 
baby  up  in  front  of  her.  "  All  free,  bofe  ob  us, 
ain't  wuf  dat  little  much  t'  ouh  Mos'  Grif  I 
All  free,  bofe  ob  us !  A  little,  teenchy,  ugly 
six  hund'ud  dollahs  I  He  radder  hab  hit  in  de 
bank  er  in  de  desk  er  in  he  pocket — dat  little 
six  hund'ud  dollahs  what's  mo'  bigger  dan  all 


76  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ob  us — an'  mo'  bigger  dan  Mis'  Kate's  lub !  " 
She  fell  to  sobbing  again.  "  Des  dat  little 
much !  Des  dat  little  much ! "  she  moaned. 
"  All  ob  us  got  ter  die  fer  des  dat  little  much  ! 
An'  Mos'  Grif,  he  don'  care.  He  lub  dat  little 
much  money  mo'  dan  wat  he  do  all  ob  us,  count- 
in'  in  Mis'  Kate's  lub  wid  de  res' !  " 

His  wife  had  gone  to  her  chair  and  was  hold 
ing  a  handkerchief  to  her  face.  He  could  see 
her  lips  and  chin  tremble. 

"  I  will  buy  John,  Sallie,  if " 

Sallie  grasped  the  two  hands  again.  They 
were  relaxed  and  cold. 

"  I  knowed  hit !  I  knowed  hit !  O  good,  kind 
Jesus  !  O  Lord,  Saviour !  dey  ain't  no  if!  Dey 
ain't  no  if !  My  Mos'  Grif  gwine  ter  do  hit. 
Dey  ain't  no  if  lef '  in  dem  han's !  My  Mos' 
Grif  gwine  ter  buy  John !  "  and  she  fell  on  her 
knees  again  and  sobbed  for  joy.  She  caught  the 
little  black  baby  up  from  the  floor  where  it  lay, 
laughing  and  kicking  its  toes  in  the  air,  and 
crushed  it  so  close  to  her  breast  that  it  cried  out 
and  then  set  up  a  wail.  Sallie  stopped  weaving 
her  body  to  and  fro,  and  tried  to  smile  through 
her  tears. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  77 

"  Des  listen  ter  dat  fool  baby  !  Hits  cryin'  fo' 
des  a  little  liu't  like  dat,  an'  I  only  des  choke 
hit  wif  my  arms  !  Mos'  Grif  done  choke  my 
hawt  out  wid  grief,  an'  now  he  done  strangle 
me  wid  joy,  befo'  I  got  ter  cry,  chile  !  Yoah 
po'  mammy's  hawt  done  bus'  Avide  open  wid  joy 
now.  Dat's  what  make  I  can't  talk  no  sense, 
Mos'  Grif.  I  des  wants  ter  yell.  But  Mis' 
Katherine,  she  know.  I  des  kin  see  dat  she  do. 
She  know  dat  I  feel  des  like  I  gwine  ter  bus' 
plum'  down  ter  my  chist.  She  know  !  " 

She  laid  the  baby  down  again  and  suddenly 
held  up  both  arms  toward  her  master.  Her  voice 
was  a  wail. 

"  Tell  me  dat  dey  ain't  no  if  lef  in  your 
hawt,  Mos'  Grif  !  I  knows  dat  dey  ain't,  but  I 
got  ter  heah  yo'  say  dat  dey  ain't,  an'  den  I  kin 
go!" 

"  I  will  buy  John,  Sallie.  There  is  no  if,"  he 
said  ;  and  Katherine  threw  her  arms  around  his 
neck  and  looked  at  him  through  tears  of  joy. 

That  night  the  Rev.  Griffith  Davenport 
prayed  long  and  earnestly  that  he  might  be  for 
given  for  this  final  weakness.  He  felt  that  his 
moral  fiber  was  weakening.  He  had  broken  the 


78  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATEIOT. 

vow  taken  so  long  ago.  He  felt  that  the  bonds 
were  tightening  about  him,  and  that  it  would  be 
harder  than  ever  to  cleanse  his  soul  from  what 
he  had  grown  to  feel  was  an  awful  wrong — this 
ownership,  and  now  this  money  purchase,  of  a 
human  soul. 

"  I  have  gone  the  whole  length,"  he 
sighed  to  himself.  "  I  have  at  last,  with  my 
eyes  open,  with  my  conscience  against  me,  done 
this  wrong !  I  have  paid  money  for  a  human 
being.  I  know  it  is  a  wrong — I  know — I  know, 
and  yet  I  have  done  it !  God  help  me  !  God 
forgive  me !  I  cannot  see  my  way !  I  cannot 
see  my  way!  " 

In  the  distance,  as  he  arose  from  his  knees, 
there  floated  in  through  the  open  window  the 
refrain  from  Sallie's  song,  as  she  moved  about 
the  quarters: — 

An'  deys  no  mo'  trouble,  an'  deys  no  mo'  pain, 
An'  deys  no  mo'  trouble  fo'  me,  fo'  me  ! 

An'  deys  no  mo'  sorrer,  an'  no  mo'  pain — 
Oh,  deys  no  mo'  trouble  f  o'  me,  f-o-h-h  m-e-e-e  ! 

I  libs  on  de  banks  ob  de  golden  shoah, 

Oh,  I  libs  in  de  promise'  Ian'  ! 
An'  I  sez  to  de  Lawd,  when  He  opens  the  doah, 

Dat  deys  no  mo'  trouble  f  o'  me  I 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  79 

De  Lawd  He  says,  when  he  took  my  han', 

"  Enter  into  de  gates  ob  res'  ! " 
An'  He  gib  me  a  harp,  an'  I  jines  de  ban', 

Fo'  deys  no  mo'  sorrer  fer  me  ! 

Lippy  Jane  was  dancing,  on  the  back  porch, 
to  the  rhythm  of  the  distant  song,  and  two  of  the 
black  boys  stopped  in  their  race  with  Beverly, 
over  the  lawn,  to  take  up  the  chorus — "  Oh, 
deys  no  mo'  trouble  fo'  me,  f-o-h  m-e  !  " 

But,  in  spite  of  his  prayer  for  "  light  and 
leading,"  as  he  would  have  called  it,  Mr.  Daven 
port  felt  that  his  moral  fiber  was,  indeed,  weak 
ening,  and  yet  he  could  not  see  his  way  out  of 
the  dilemma.  He  had  definitely  decided  so 
long  ago  now  that  he  could  not  remember  when 
he  had  thought  otherwise,  that  for  one  in  his 
position,  at  least,  even  the  mere  ownership  of 
slaves  could  not  be  right.  He  recalled  that  it 
had  come  to  him  at  first  in  the  form  of  purchase 
and  sale,  and  it  had  seemed  to  him  that  under 
no  conditions  could  he  be  forced  into  that  form 
of  the  complication ;  but  a  little  later  on  he  de 
cided  that  the  mere  ownership  involved  moral 
turpitude  for  one  of  his  denomination,  at  least, 
if  he  was  in  deed  and  in  truth  following  the 
leaderhip  of  the  Christ. 


80  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

When  first  he  had  agreed  to  take  part  of  his 
father's  slaves,  therefore,  he  had  made  himself 
feel  that  it  was  right  that  he  should  assume  a 
part  of  the  old  Major's  burdens  as  his  son  and 
trustee,  only,  and  that  there  was  to  be  no  trans 
fer  of  property.  That  this  service  was  his 
father's  due  and  that  he  should  give  it  freely 
seemed  plain  to  him.  Katheririe's  slaves  he  had 
always  thought  of  as  hers  alone — not  at  all  as 
his  ;  but  ever  since  the  old  Major  had  died  and 
the  will  had  settled  beyond  a  quibble  that  the 
Rev.  Griffith  Davenport  was  himself,  in  deed  and 
in  truth  "Mos'  Grif"  to  all  these  dependent 
creatures,  it  had  borne  more  and  more  heavily 
upon  his  conscience.  He  had  tried  to  think 
and  plan  some  way  out  of  it  and  had  failed,  and 
now  he  had  been  forced  to  face  the  final  issue — 
the  one  phase  which  he  had  felt  could  never 
touch  him, — the  purchase  for  money  of  a  black 
man,  and  he  had  yielded  at  the  first  test !  His 
heart  had  outweighed  his  head  and  his  con 
science  combined,  and  the  line  he  had  fixed  so 
long  ago  as  the  one  boundary  of  this  evil  which 
he  could  never  pass,  and  which,  thank  God,  no 
one  else  could  thrust  upon  him,  was  obliterated, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  81 

and  he  stood  on  the  far  side  condemned  by  his 
whole  nature  !  In  this  iniquity  from  which  he 
had  felt  his  hands  should  forever  be  free,  they 
were  steeped  !  He  felt  wounded  and  sore  and 
that  a  distinct  step  downward  had  been  taken, 
and  yet  he  asked  himself  over  and  over  again 
what  he  could  have  done  in  the  matter  that 
would  not  have  been  far  worse.  He  slept  little. 
The  next  day  when  he  went  to  Mr.  Bradley  to 
buy  John  his  whole  frame  trembled  and  he  felt 
sick  and  weak. 

His  neighbor  noticed  that  he  was  pale,  and 
remarked  upon  it,  and  then  turned  the  subject 
to  the  matter  in  hand  which  Sallie  had  duly 
reported  an  hour  after  she  had  won  and  her 
master  had  lost  the  great  moral  contest.  For  it 
cannot  be  denied  that,  all  things  considered, 
Sallie  had  won  a  distinct  victory  for  the  future 
moral  life  of  herself  and  for  John  and  the  baby. 
So  complicated  are  our  relations  to  each  other 
and  to  what  we  are  pleased  to  call  right  and 
wrong  in  this  heterogeneous  world,  that  in  doing 
this  Sallie  had  forced  her  master  into  a  position 
which  seemed  to  him  to  cancel  his  right  to  feel 

himself  a  man  of  honor  and  a  credit  to  the  re- 
6 


82  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ligion  in  which  he  believed  he  had,  so  far,  found 
all  his  loftiest  ideals.  He  could  plainly  see, 
now,  that  this  phase  of  the  terrible  problem 
would  be  sure  to  arise  and  confront  him  again 
and  again  as  time  went  on,  and  his  heart  ached 
when  he  felt  that  he  had  lost  his  grasp  upon  the 
anchor  of  his  principles  and  that  the  boundary 
lines  of  his  ethical  integrity  were  again  becom 
ing  sadly  confused  in  a  mind  he  had  grown  to 
feel  had  long  ago  clearly  settled  and  denned 
them. 

"  You  look  as  pale  as  a  ghost.  Better  try  a 
little  of  Maria's  blackberry  cordial  ?  No  ?  Do 
you  good,  I'm  sure,  if  you  would,"  said  Mr. 
Bradley.  "  You're  taking  this  thing  altogether 
too  much  to  heart,  sir.  What  possible  differ 
ence  can  it  make  to  John  whether  you  pay  for 
him  or  whether  he  had  come  to  you  as  the  others 
did  ?  If  you  will  allow  me  to  say  so,  I  think 
it  is  a  ridiculous  distinction.  Somebody  paid 
for  the  ones  you've  got.  If  you'll  allow  an  old 
neighbor  to  make  a  suggestion,  I  think  you  read 
those  Yankee  papers  altogether  too  much  and 
too  seriously.  It  perverts  your  judgment.  It's 
a  good  sight  easier  for  those  fellows  up  there  to 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  83 

settle  this  question  than  it  is  for  us  to  do  it. 
They  simply  don't  know  what  they  are  talking 
about,  and  we  do.  With  them  it's  all  theory. 
Here  it's  a  cold  fact.  What  in  the  name  of 
common  sense  would  they  have  ?  Suppose  we 
didn't  own  and  provide  for  and  direct  all  these 
niggers,  what  on  earth  would  become  of  'em? 
Where  would  they  get  enough  to  eat?  You 
know  as  well  as  I  do  there  is  nothing  on  this 
earth  as  helpless  and  as  much  to  be  pitied  as  a 
free  nigger.  They  don't  know  how  to  take  care 
of  themselves,  and  nobody  is  going  to  hire  one. 
What  in  thunder  do  people  want  us  to  do? 
Brain  'em?" 

"  Oh,  I  know,  I  know,"  said  Mr.  Davenport, 
helplessly,  looking  far  off  into  the  beautiful 
valley,  with  its  hazy  atmosphere  and  its  rich 
fields  of  grain.  "I've  thought  about  it  a 
thousand  times,  and  a  thousand  times  it  has 
baffled  me.  I'm  not  judging,  now,  for  you,  Mr. 
Bradley,  not  in  the  least.  I  feel  myself  too 
thoroughly  caught  in  the  meshes  of  our  social 
fabric  to  presume  to  unravel  it  for  other  people. 
But — but  in  my  position — for  myself — it  seems 
a  monstrously  wrong  thing  for  me  to  count  out 


84  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

this  money  and  pay  it  over  for  John,  just  as  if 
he  were  a  horse.  It  makes  me  feel  sick — as  I 
fancy  a  criminal  must  feel  after  his  first  crime." 

Mr.  Bradley  laughed. 

"  You  don't  look  it,  Davenport !  Criminal  ! 
Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  that's  rich  !  " 

Griffith  moved  uneasily  and  did  not  join  the 
laugh  which  still  convulsed  his  neighbor. 

"  For  me  it  is  wrong — distinctly,  absolutely 
wrong.  It  is  a  terrible  thing  for  me  to  say — 
and  still  do  it — I,  a  preacher  of  God  !  For  you, 
I  cannot  judge.  '  Judge  not,  that  ye  be  not 
judged,'  is  what  I  always  think  in  this 
matter.  But  for  me,  for  me  it  is  not  right — and 
yet  what  can  I  do  ?  " 

Mr.  Bradley  laughed  again,  partly  in  amuse 
ment  and  partly  in  derision,  at  what  he  looked 
upon  as  the  preacher's  unworldly  view,  and 
what  he  spoke  of  with  vexation  to  others  as 
"  Davenport's  damned  foolishness,"  which  had, 
of  late,  grown  to  be  a  matter  of  real  unrest  to 
the  neighborhood,  in  which  it  was  felt  that  the 
influence  of  such  opinions  could  not  fail  to  be 
dangerous  to  social  order  and  stability.  It  was 
as  if  you  or  I  were  to  spring  the  question  of 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  85 

free  land  or  free  money  in  a  convention  of  land 
lords  and  bankers.  Or,  if  you  please,  like  the 
arguments  for  anarchy  or  no  government  ad 
dressed  to  the  "  Fourth  ward,"  or  the  members  of 
Congress.  It  was,  in  short,  subversive  of  the 
established  order  of  things,  and  neither  you,  nor 
I,  nor  they,  accept  quite  gracefully  such  proposi 
tions,  if  in  their  application  to  ourselves,  they 
would  be  a  sore  and  bitter  loss — if  it  would  render 
less  secure  and  lofty  our  seat  on  the  social  or 
political  throne.  We  revolt  and  we  blame  the 
disturber  of  the  old  established  order  of  things — 
the  order,  which  having  been  good  enough  for 
our  fathers  is  surely  good  enough  for  you  and 
for  me.  In  short,  was  not  the  way  in  religion 
and  in  social  order  of  our  fathers  far  the  better 
way  ?  Is  not  the  better  way  always  that  of  the 
man  who  owns  and  rides  in  the  carriage  ?  If 
you  will  ask  him — or  if  you  are  he — you  will 
learn  or  see  that  there  is  not  the  least  doubt  of 
the  fact.  If  you  should  happen  to  ask  the  man 
who  walks,  you  may  hear  another  story — if  the 
man  who  walks  happens  to  be  a  philosopher  ; 
but  as  all  pedestrians  are  not  philosophers  and 
since  acquiescence  is  an  easy  price  to  pay  for 


86  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

peace,  it  may  happen  that  the  man  in  the 
carriage  will  be  corroborated  by  the  wayfarer 
whom  his  wheels  have  run  down. 

And  so,  my  friend,  in  the  year  1852,  had  you 
been  sitting  counting  out  the  six  hundred 
dollars  which  must  change  hands  to  enable 
John  to  play  with  the  little  black  baby  on  his 
knee,  after  his  daj^'s  work  was  done,  and  to  keep 
Sallie  from  the  pitiful  fate  she  dreaded,  it  is  to 
be  questioned  if  you  would  not  have  agreed 
with  Mr.  Bradley  in  his  covert  opinion  that 
"  Davenport's  squeamishness  was  all  damned 
nonsense,"  and  that  he  might  far  better  stop 
reading  those  Yankee  newspapers.  But  be  that 
as  it  may,  the  deed  was  done.  The  transfer 
was  made,  and  the  Rev.  Griffith  Davenport  rode 
home  with  a  sad  heart  and  troubled  conscience. 
He  did  not  sing  nor  even  hum  his  favorite 
hymns  as  he  rode.  His  usually  radiant  face 
was  a  study  in  perplexity.  When  he  passed 
the  cross-roads  he  did  not  whistle  to  the  robin 
who  always  answered  him. 

Selim's  successor  and  namesake  slackened 
his  gait  and  wondered.  Then  he  jogged  on,  and 
when  he  stopped  at  the  home  "  stile "  and 


AN  VNOFFICIAL  PATEIOT.  87 

Griffith  still  sat  on  his  back,  apparently  oblivious 
of  the  fact  that  the  journey  was  at  an  end, 
Selim  whinnied  twice  before  the  responsive  pat 
fell  upon  his  glossy  neck. 

Jerry  ran  out.  "  Dinnah's  raidy,  Mos'  Grif. 
Mis'  Kath'rine  she  been  a  waitin'  foh  yoh." 

The  rider  roused  himself  and  dismounted, 
more  like  an  old  man  than  like  his  cheery, 
jovial,  alert  self. 

"  Is  that  so  ?  Is  it  dinner-time  already  ? " 
he  asked  absently.  "  Feed  him,  but  don't  put 
him  up.  I  may  want  him  again  after  dinner." 

"  You  ain't  sick,  is  you,  Mos'  Grif  ?  " 

"No,  no,  boy,  I'm  not  sick,"  he  said,  and 
then  recognizing  the  look  of  anxiety  on  the 
faithful  fellow's  face :  "  What  made  you  ask 
that?" 

"  Yoh  look  so  monst'ous  lemoncholly,  Mos' 
Grif.  Hit  ain't  seem  like  yo'se'f.  I  des 
fought  dey  mus'  be  somp'in  de  mattah  wid  yo' 
insides." 

Mr.  Davenport  laughed  and  snapped  the  rid 
ing  whip  at  the  boy.  Jerry  dodged  the  stroke, 
but  rubbed  the  place  where  it  was  supposed  to 
fall. 


88  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  Lemoncliolly,  am  I  ?  I'll  lemon cholly  you, 
you  rascal,  if  you  don't  just  knock  off  and  go 
fishing  this  afternoon.  I  shan't  need  you  with 
me." 

He  was  half  way  to  the  house  when  he 
called  back :  "  Bring  me  a  nice  mess  of  trout, 
boy,  and  you'll  see  my  insides,  as  you  call  'em, 
will  be  all  right.  It's  trout  I  need.  Now 
mind !  " 

And  Jerry  was  comforted. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  89 


CHAPTER  VII. 

WHAT  WOULD  YOU  HAVE  DONE? 

IT  was  a  year  later  before  the  Rev.  Griffith 
Davenport  found  himself  in  a  position  to  carry 
out,  even  in  part,  a  long-cherished  plan  of  his. 
For  some  time  past,  he  had  been  strengthening 
himself  in  the  belief  that  in  the  long  run  he 
would  have  to  flee  from  the  problem  that  so 
perplexed  him.  That  he  would  have  to  make 
one  supreme  effort  which  should,  thereafter, 
shield  him  against  himself  and  against  temp 
tation.  This  determination  had  cost  him  the 
severest  struggle  of  his  life,  and  it  had  resulted 
in  the  rupture  of  several  lifelong  friendships 
and  in  strained  relations  with  his  own  and  his 
wife's  near  kinsmen.  It  had  divided  his  church 
and  made  ill-feeling  among  his  brother  clergy 
men,  for  it  had  become  pretty  generally  known 
and  talked  about,  that  the  Rev.  Griffith  Daven 
port  had  definitely  determined  to  leave  his  old 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


home  and  take  his  sons  to  be  educated  "  where 
the  trend  of  thought  is  toward  freedom  "  as  he 
had  expressed  it,  and  as  his  neighbors  were  fond 
of  quoting  derisively.  He  had  finally  secured 
a  position  in  connection  with  a  small  college 
somewhere  in  Indiana,  together  with  an  ap 
pointment  as  "  presiding  elder  "  in  the  district 
in  which  the  college  was  located.  He  had 
arranged  for  the  sale  of  his  property,  and  he  was 
about  to  leave. 

To  those  whose  traditions  of  ancestry  all  center 
about  one  locality,  it  costs  a  fearful  struggle  to 
tear  up  root  and  branch  and  strike  out  into 
unknown  fields  among  people  of  a  different  type 
and  class  ;  with  dissimilar  ideas  and  standards 
of  action  and  belief.  To  such  it  is  almost  like 
the  threat  or  presence  of  "death  in  the  house 
hold.  But  to  voluntarily  disrupt  and  leave 
behind  all  of  that  which  has  given  color  and 
tone  and  substance  to  one's  daily  life,  and  at  its 
meridian,  to  begin  anew  the  weaving  of  another 
fabric  from  unaccustomed  threads  on  a  strange 
and  unknown  loom,  to  readjust  one's  self  to  a 
different  civilization  —  all  this  requires  a  heroism, 
a  fidelity  to  conscience  and,  withal,  a  confidence 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  91 

in  one's  own  judgment  and  beliefs  that  sur 
pass  the  normal  limit.  But,  if  in  addition  to 
all  this,  the  contemplated  change  is  to  be  made 
in  pursuance  of  a  moral  conviction  and  will 
surely  result  in  financial  loss  and  material 
discomfort,  it  would  not  be  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  ask  nor  to  expect  it  of  those  who  are  less 
than  heroic.  In  order  to  compass  his  plans  Mr. 
Davenport  knew  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
dispose  of  his  slaves.  But  how  ? 

He  hoped  to  take  with  him  to  his  new  home 
— although  they  would  be  freed  by  the  very 
act — several  of  the  older  ones  and  Jerry  and 
his  little  family.  He  knew  that  these  would, 
by  their  faithful  services,  be  a  comfort  and  sup 
port  to  his  wife  and  of  infinite  use  and  advan 
tage  to  the  children,  whose  love  and  confidence 
they  had.  To  take  all  into  his  employ  in  the 
new  home  would,  of  course,  be  impossible.  He 
would  no  longer  have  the  estate  of  an  esquire. 
At  first,  at  least,  he  must  live  in  a  small  town. 
There  would  be  no  land  to  till  and  no  income 
to  so  support  them.  The  house  would  no 
longer  be  the  roomy  mansion  of  a  planter.  His 
income  would  be  too  meager  to  warrant  the 


92  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

keeping  of  even  so  many  servants  as  they  were 
planning  to  take — and  there  would  be  little 
work  for  them  to  do.  The  others  must  be  dis 
posed  of  in  some  other  way.  But  how  ?  They 
are  yours,  my  friend,  for  the  moment.  How 
will  you  dispose  of  them  ?  What  would  you 
have  done  ? 

"  Free  them  and  leave  them  in  the  state  of 
their  birth  and  of  their  love  where  their  friends 
and  kinsmen  are  ?  "  But  you  cannot !  It  is 
against  the  law  !  If  you  free  them  you  must 
take  them  away.  Sell  them  ?  Of  course  not ! 
give  them  to  your  wife's  and  your  own  people  ? 
Would  that  settle  or  only  perpetuate  and  shift 
the  question  for  which  you  are  suffering  and 
sacrificing  so  much  ?  And  it  would  discriminate 
between  those  you  take  and  thus  make  free  and 
those  you  leave  and  farther  fix  in  bondage,  and 
the  Rev.  Griffith  Davenport  had  set  out  to  meet 
and  perform,  and  not  merely  to  shift  and  evade, 
what  he  had  grown  to  look  upon  as  his  duty 
to  himself  and  to  them.  It  was  this  which  had 
burdened  and  weighed  upon  him  all  these  last 
months,  until  at  last  he  had  determined  to  meet 
it  in  the  only  way  that  seemed  to  settle  it  once 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  93 

and  for  all.  He  would  go.  He  would  free  all 
of  them  and  take  them  with  him  into  the  state 
of  his  adoption.  He  would  then  give  hired 
employment  to  those  he  needed  in  his  house 
hold  and  the  others  would  have  to  shift  for 
themselves.  This  he  prepared  to  do.  Some  of 
them  would  not  want  to  go  into  a  homeless  and 
strange  new  land.  This  he  also  knew.  Pete 
was,  as  the  negroes  phrased  it,  "  settin'  up  to  " 
Col.  Phelps'  Tilly.  Pete  would,  therefore,  re 
sist,  and  wish  to  remain  in  Virginia.  Old  Milt 
and  his  wife  had  seven  children  who  were  the 
property  of  other  people  in  the  neighborhood, 
and  their  grandchildren  were  almost  countless. 
It  would  go  hard  with  Milt  and  Phillis  to 
leave  all  these.  It  would  go  even  harder  with 
them  to  he  free — and  homeless.  Both  were 
old.  Neither  could  hope  to  be  self-supporting. 
My  friend,  have  you  decided  what  to  do  with 
Milt  and  Phillis  ?  Add  Judy  and  Mammy  and 
five  other  old  ones  to  your  list  when  you  have 
solved  the  problem. 

Mr.  Bradley  had  spoken  to  Griffith  of  all 
these  things — of  the  hardships  to  both  black 
and  white  —  and  of  the  possible  outcome. 


94  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Over  and  over  during  the  year,  when  they  had 
talked  of  the  proposed  new  move,  he  had  urged 
these  points. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Mr.  Davenport,  that  you 
are  going  to  tackle  a  pretty  rough  job.  You  say 
you  will  take  all  of  them  as  far  as  Washington, 
anyhow.  Now  you  ought  to  know  that  there 
are  no  end  of  free  niggers  in  Washington, 
already,  with  no  way  to  support  themselves. 
Look  at  Milt  and  Phillis  and  Judy  and  Dan, 
and  those  other  old  ones  in  the  two  end  cabins  ! 
They've  all  served  you  and  your  father  before 
you  faithfully  all  of  their  lives,  and  now  you 
are  proposing  to  turn  them  out  to  die — simply 
to  starve  to  death.  That's  the  upshot  of  your 
foolishness.  You  know  they  won't  steal,  and 
they  can't  work  enough  to  support  themselves. 
All  the  old  ones  are  in  the  same  fix,  and  the 
young  ones  will  simply  be  put  on  the  chain- 
gang  for  petty  thefts  of  food  before  you  get 
fairly  settled  out  west.  Lord,  Lord,  man,  you 
don't  know  what  you  are  doing !  I  wish  the 
old  Major  was  here  to  put  a  stop  to  it.  You're 
laying  up  suffering  for  yourself,  you're  laying 
up  sorrow  and  crime  for  them,  you  are  robbing 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  95 

your  children  of  their  birthright,  and  of  what 
their  grandfathers  have  done  for  them,  you  are 
making  trouble  among  other  people's  niggers 
here  who  hear  of  it,  and  think  it  would  be  a 
fine  thing  to  be  a  free  nigger  in  Washington  or 
Indiana — and  what  good  is  it  all  going  to  do  ? 
Just  answer  me  that?  It  would  take  a  micro 
scope  to  see  any  good  that  can  come  out  of  it. 
It's  easy  enough  to  see  the  harm.  Look  at 
'Squire  Nelson's  Jack  !  He  undertook  to  run 
off  last  week,  and  Nelson  had  him  whipped 
within  an  inch  of  his  life.  Yes,  bad  policy, 
and  cruel,  of  course,  but  that's  the  kind  of  a 
man  Nelson  is.  Now  your  move  is  going  to 
stir  up  that  sort  of  thing  all  around  here.  It  does 
it  every  time.  You  know  that.  What  in  thunder 
has  got  into  the  heads  of  some  of  you  fellows,  I 
can't  see.  It  started  in  about  the  time  you 
Methodists  began  riding  around  here.  Sometimes 
I  think  they  were  sent  down  here  just  for  that 
purpose,  and  that  the  preaching  was  only  a  blind." 
Mr.  Davenport  laughed.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha  I 
Bradley,  you  are  a  hopeless  case  !  If  I  didn't 
know  you  so  well,  I'd  feel  like  losing  my 
temper ;  but " 


96  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mean  you,  of  course.  I  know 
you  got  to  believing  in  the  new  religion  and 
got  led  on.  I  mean  those  fellows  who  came 
down  here  and  started  it  all  when  you  were 
a  good,  sensible  boy.  And  how  do  they 
get  their  foolishness,  anyhow  ?  Your  Bible 
teaches  the  right  of  slavery  plain  enough,  in 
all  conscience,  and  even  if  it  didn't,  slavery 
is  here  and  we  can't  help  ourselves;  and 
what's  more  we  can't  help  the  niggers  by  turn 
ing  some  of  'em  loose  to  starve,  and  letting 
them  make  trouble  for  both  the  masters  and 
the  slaves  that  are  left  behind.  I  just  tell  you, 
Mr.  Davenport,  it  is  a  big  mistake  and  you  are 
going  to  find  it  out  before  you  are  done  with 
it." 

Griffith  had  grown  so  used  to  these  talks  and 
to  those  of  a  less  kindly  tone  that  he  had 
stopped  arguing  the  matter  at  all,  and,  indeed, 
there  seemed  little  he  could  say  beyond  the 
fact,  that  it  was  a  matter  of  conscience  with 
him.  His  wife's  father  had  berated  him 
soundly,  and  her  sisters  plainly  stated  that,  in 
their  opinion,  "  poor  Brother  Grif  was  insane." 
They  pitied  their  sister  Katherine  from  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  97 

bottom  of  their  hearts,  and  thanked  God 
devoutly  that  their  respective  husbands  were 
not  similarly  afflicted.  And,  as  may  be  readily 
understood,  it  was  all  a  sore  trial  for  Katherine. 

At  last,  when  the  manumission  papers  came, 
Katherine  sent  LeRoy,  her  second  son,  to  tell 
the  negroes  to  come  to  the  "  big  house." 

Roy  ran,  laughing  and  calling,  to  the  negro 
quarters.  "  Oh,  John,  Pete,  Sallie,  Uncle  Milt 
everybody !  Father  says  for  all  of  you — every 
single  one — to  come  to  the  big  house  right 
after  supper !  Every  single  one !  He's  got 
something  for  you.  Something  he  is  going  to 
make  you  a  present  of !  I  can't  tell  you 
what — only  every  one  will  have  it — and  you 
must  come  right  away  after  supper  !  " 

"  G'way  fum  heah,  chile  !  What  he  gwine 
t'  gib  me  ?  New  yaller  dress  ? "  inquired 
Lippy  Jane,  whereupon  there  arose  a  great  outcry 
from  the  rest,  mingled  with  laughter  and  gibes. 

"  I  know  wat  he  gwine  t'  gib  Lippy  Jane ! 
He  gwine  t'  gib  'er  a  swing  t'  hang  enter  dat 
lip,  yah !  yah !  yah ! "  remarked  Pete,  and 
dodged  the  blow  that  his  victim  leveled  at  him. 

"  New  dress  I     Lawsy,  chile,  I  reckon  he  be 
7 


98  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

mo'  likely  ter  gib  you  a  lickiri'  along  'er  dat 
platter  you  done  bus'  widout  tellin'  Mis' 
Kate  !  "  put  in  Sallie,  whose  secure  place  in  the 
affections  of  the  mistress  rendered  her  a  severe 
critic  of  manners  and  morals  in  the  "  quarters." 

"  Come  heah,  Mos'  Roy,  honey,  an'  tell  ole 
Unc'  Milt  wat  'e  gwine  t'  git.  Wat  dat  is  wat 
Mos'  Grif  gwine  t'  gib  me  ?  Some  mo'  'er  dat 
dar  town  terbacker?  Laws  a  massy,  honey, 
dat  dar  las'  plug  what  he  f  otch  me  nebber  las' 
no  time  ertal." 

But  Roy  was  tickling  the  ear  of  old  Phillis 
with  a  feather  he  had  picked  up  from  the 
grass,  and  the  old  woman  was  nodding  and 
slapping  at  the  side  of  her  head  and  humoring 
the  boy  in  the  delusion  that  she  thought  her 
tormentor  was  a  fly.  Roy's  delight  was  un 
bounded. 

"  G'way  fum  heah,  fly  !  Shoo  !  G'way  fum 
heah  !  I  lay  dat  I  mash  you  flat  'fo'  a  nudder 
minnit!  Sho-o-o ! " 

Roy  and  the  twins  were  convulsed  with  sup 
pressed  mirth,  and  Aunt  Phillis  slapped  the 
side  of  her  head  with  a  resounding  whack 
which  was  not  only  a  menace  to  the  life  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  99 

limb  of  the  aforenamed  insect,  but  also,  bid  fair 
to  demolish  her  ear  as  well.  One  of  the  twins 
undertook  to  supplement  the  proceeding  on  the 
other  ear  with  a  blade  of  "  fox  tail,"  but  found 
himself  sprawling  in  front  of  the  cabin  door. 
"  You  triflin'  little  nigger !  Don'  you  try 
none  'er  yoah  foolin'  wid  me  !  I  lay  I  break 
yoah  fool  neck !  I  lay  I  do,"  exclaimed  the  old 
woman  in  wrath.  Then  in  a  sportively  insist 
ent  tone,  as  she  banged  at  the  other  side  of 
her  head,  "  Fore  de  good  Lawd  on  high  !  twixt 
dat  imperent  little  nigger  an'  dis  heah  fly,  I 
lay  I'm  plum  wore  out.  Sho-o-o,  fly  !  " 

Suddenly  she  swung  her  fat  body  about  on 
the  puncheon  stool  and  gave  a  tremendous  snort 
and  snapped  her  teeth  at  the  young  master. 
"  Lawsey  me,  honey,  was  dat  yoh  all  dis  long 
cum  short?  Was  dat  yo'  teasin'  yoah  po'  ole 
Aunt  Phillis  wid  dat  fedder?  I  lay  I  gwine 
ter  ketch  yo'  yit,  an'  s  waller  yo'  down  whole ! 
I  lay  I  is  !  " 

The  threat  to  swallow  him  down  whole 
always  gave  Roy  the  keenest  delight.  He  ran 
for  the  big  house,  laughing  and  waving  the 
feather  at  Phillis. 


100  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Great  was  the  speculation  in  the  quarters  as 
to  what  Mos'  Grif  had  for  $very  one. 

"  Hit's  des'  lack  Chris'mus  ! " 

"  I  des  wisht  I  knowed  wat  I  gwine  t'  git." 

"  Lawsey  me,  but  I  wisht  hit  was  arter  supper 
now  I " 

In  the  twilight  they  came  swaying  up  through 
the  grass — a  long  irregular  line  of  them.  Jerry 
had  his  banjo.  Mammy,  Sallie's  old  mother, 
carried  in  her  arms  the  white  baby.  Little 
Margaret  was  her  sole  care  and  charge  and  no 
more  devoted  lovers  existed. 

"  'Et  me  wide  piggy  back,  mammy,"  plead 
the  child. 

"  Heah,  Jerry,  put  dis  heah  chile  on  my  back ! 
Be  mons'ous  keerful  dar  now !  Don'  yoh  let 
dat  chile  fall !  Dar  yoh  is,  honey !  Dar  yoh 
is !  Hoi'  tight,  now  !  .Hug  yoah  ole  mammy 
tight !  D-a-t-s  de  way. 

"  '  Go  down,  Moses,  away  down  in  Egypt's  Ian'. 
Go  tell  ole  Pharoah,  t'  let  my  people  go.'  " 

Mammy  began  to  trot  and  hum  the  tune  for 
the  child.  The  swaying  rhythm  caught  like  a 
sudden  fire  in  a  field  of  ripened  grain.  Every 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  101 

voice,  old  and  young,  fell  into  harmony,  and 
Jerry's  banjo  beat  its  tuneful  way  like  the  ripple 
of  a  stream  through  it  all. 

Mrs.  Davenport  stood  by  the  window  watch 
ing  them  as  they  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Her 
face  was  sad  and  troubled.  She  looked  up  into 
the  clear  twilight  and  saw  one  star  peer  out. 
She  did  not  know  why,  but  in  some  mysterious 
way  it  seemed  to  comfort  her.  She  smiled 
through  dim  eyes  at  the  child  on  mammy's 
back.  Her  husband  still  sat  by  the  table  sort 
ing  over  some  legal-looking  papers. 

"Are  those  the  manumission  papers,  father?" 
asked  Beverly,  taking  one  up  and  turning  it 
curiously. 

"  Yes." 

Beverly  glanced  at  his  father.  It  seemed  to 
him  that  the  lines  in  his  face  were  very  sad. 
The  merry  twinkle  that  always  hid  in  the  cor 
ners  of  eyes  and  mouth  were  obliterated.  There 
was  a  settled  look  of  anxiety.  He  seemed  older. 
Beverly  was  silent.  He  more  nearly  understood 
what  his  father  was  doing  than  did  even 
Katherine.  Presently  he  said :  "  Hear  them 
sing!" 


102  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Mr.  Davenport  was  staring  straight  before 
him  into  space.  He  turned  to  listen. 

"  Happy,  careless,  thoughtless,  unfortunate 
creatures,"  he  said  softly,  "  and  as  free  as  you  or 
I,  this  minute — as  free  as  you  or  I — if  only  they 
knew  it;"  then  suddenly — "  No,  not  that,  either. 
They  can  never  be  that  so  long  as  they  may  not 
stay  here  free,  even  if  they  want  to.  I  suppose 
I  am  breaking  the  law  to  tell  them  what  I  shall 
to-night,  but  I  can't  take  them  away  from  their 
old  home  and  friends  and  not  tell  them  it  is  for 
good  and  all — that  they  may  not  come  back. 
For  good  and  all — for  good  and  all,"  he  re 
peated,  abstractedly.  After  a  long  pause  he 
said,  "  Law  or  no  law,  I  cannot  do  that.  I  must 
tell  them  they  are  free  before  they  go — and  that 
they  must  say  good-bye,  never  to  come  back." 

"  Seems  pretty  hard,  doesn't  it,  father  ?  But 
then — but — don't  you  think  God  was  pretty 
hard  on  them  when  He — when  He  made  them 
black  ?  Jerry  is  a  gentleman,  if — if  he  was 
not  black." 

"  Griffith,"  asked  Katherine  from  the  window, 
"  how  do  you  suppose  they  will  take  it  ?  I'm 
afraid " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  103 

"  Take  it !  take  it !  Why,  little  woman,  how 
would  you  or  I  take  freedom  if  it  were  given  to 
us  ?  "  The  thought  cheered  him  and  he  crossed 
the  room  and  tapped  her  cheek  with  the  papers. 
His  face  beamed.  "  I'm  prepared  to  see  the 
wildest  outbreak  of  joy."  He  chuckled,  and 
some  of  the  old  lines  of  mirth  came  back  to  his 
face.  "  I'm  glad  Jerry  brought  his  banjo.  They 
will  be  in  a  humor  for  some  of  the  rollicking 

o 

songs  afterward.  I  think  they  would  do  me 
good  too.  And  you,  you,  little  woman,  you 
will  need  it  too.  You  have  been  brave — you 
have  been  my  tower  of  great  strength  in  all  this. 
If  you  had  contested  it,  I'm  afraid  my  strength 
would  have  given  out,  after  all."  He  put  his 
arm  around  her.  "But  God  knows  what  we 
can  stand,  Katherine,  and  he  tempers  the  trial 
to  our  strength.  Thank  God  it  is  over — the 
worst  of  it,"  he  said,  and  drew  her  to  him. 

Suddenly  this  silent,  self -controlled  woman 
threw  both  arms  about  his  neck  and  sobbed 
aloud.  "  God  help  us  to  bear  it,  Griffith. 
Sometimes  I  think  I  cannot !  It  is  hard !  It 
is  hard !  " 

He  stroked  her  hair  silently. 


104  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"Mos'  Grif,  does  yoh  want  us  to  come  in 
er  t'  stay  on  de  big  po'cli?"  It  was  Jerry's 
voice.  "  Good-ebnin',  Mis'  Kath'rine  !  I  hope 
yoh  is  monst'ous  well  dis  ebenin'.  Thanky, 
ma'am,  yes'm,  I'm  middlin'." 

Mrs.  Davenport  drew  herself  farther  into  the 
shadow,  but  she  heard  the  little  groan  that 
escaped  her  husband.  She  understood.  Her 
own  voice  was  as  steady  as  if  no  storm  had 
passed. 

"  Open  these  large  windows  on  to  the  porch, 
Jerry,  and  your  Mos'  Grif  will  talk  to  you 
from  here.  Just  keep  them  all  outside.  I 
liked  your  songs.  When  Mos'  Grif  is  done  with 
you  all,  sing  some  more — sing  that  one  he  likes 
so  well — the  one  about '  Fun  in  de  Cabin.' " 

"  To  be  sho',  Mis'  Kath'rine,  to  be  sho'. 
Dat  I  will.  What  dat  Mos'  Grif  gwine  ter  gib 
us  ?  Milt  he  'low  dat  hit's  terbacker,  an' 
Lippy  Jane  she  'low  dat  hit's  calicker,  an'  John 
he  'low  dat " 

With  the  opening  of  the  low  windows  a  great 
wave  of  "  howdys  "  arose  and  a  cloud  of  black 
faces  clustered  close  to  the  open  spaces.  The 
moon  was  rising  behind  them  and  the  lamp  on 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  105 

the  table  within  gave  but  a  feeble  effort  to  rival 
the  mellow  light  outside.  The  master  was 
slow  to  begin,  but,  at  last,  when  the  greetings 
were  over  he  said,  with  an  effort  to  seem 
indifferent,  "  You  all  know  that  we  are  going 
away  from  here  and  that  you  are  going,  too ; 

but "     He  found  the  task  harder  than  he 

had  expected.  His  voice  trembled  and  he  was 
glad  that  Katherine  put  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
He  shifted  his  position  and  began  again.  "  You 
have  all  heard  of  freedom."  He  was  looking 
at  them,  and  the  faces  were  so  blandly,  blankly 
vacant  of  that  which  he  was  groping  for — they 
were  so  evidently  expecting  a  gift  of  tobacco, 
or  its  like — that  he  omitted  all  he  had  thought 
of  to  say  of  their  new  freedom  and  what  it 
could  mean  for  them,  and  what  it  had  meant 
for  him  to  secure  it  for  them,  and  at  once  held 
up  the  folded  papers.  "  These  are  legal  papers. 
They  are  all  registered  at  a  courthouse.  I 
have  one  for  each  one  of  you.  These  papers 
set  you  free !  They  are  manumission  papers, 

and  you  are  all  to  be  free  !  free " 

The  silence  was  unbroken  except  for  a  slight 
shuffling  of  feet,  but  the   dire   disappointment 


106  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

was  depicted  on  every  face.  That  was  too 
plain  to  be  mistaken.  Only  papers !  No 
tobacco !  No  calico !  Nothing  to  eat !  The 
silence  grew  uncomfortable.  They  were  wait 
ing  for  something  for  which  they  could  give 
out  the  "thanky,  Mos'  Grif,  thanky,  sir,  I's 
mighty  much  'bleeged  t'  you,  I  is  dat ! "  in 
their  own  hearty  and  happy  way. 

Griffith  found  himself  trying  to  explain  what 
these  papers  really  were.  He  chanced  to  open 
Judy's  first.  He  would  make  an  object  lesson 
of  it.  She  had  been  his  nurse,  and  was  too  old 
and  rheumatic  to  work  except  as  the  spirit  of 
occupation  urged  her  to  some  trifling  task. 
Griffith  was  reading  the  paper  and  explaining 
as  he  went.  The  negroes  looked  from  the 
master  to  Judy  and  back  again  until  he  was 
done.  She  walked  lamely  to  his  side  when  he 
had  finished  and  was  holding  her  freedom  papers 
toward  her.  She  held  out  her  hand  for  it.  Then 
she  tore  it  through  twice  and  tossed  it  out  of 
the  window.  Her  eyes  flashed  and  she  held 
herself  erect. 

"  What  I  want  wid  yoah  ole  mannermussent 
papers  ?  What  I  want  wid  'em,  hey  ? "  She 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  107 

folded  her  arms.  "  Me  a  free  nigger !  Me ! 
Mos'  Grif,  yoh  ain't  nebber  gwine  ter  lib  t'  be 
ole  enough  t'  make  no  free  nigger  out  ob  ole 
Judy !  What  I  fotch  yoh  up  foh  ?  Didn't  I 
nus  yoh  fum  de  time  yoh  was  a  teenchy  little 
baby,  an'  wasn't  ole  Mis'  and  yoah  paw  sas'fied 
wid  me  ?  What  I  done  t'  yoh  now  ?  What  f o' 
is  yoh  gwine  ter  tun  me  loose  dat  a  way  ? 
Mannermussent  papers ! "  she  exclaimed,  in  a 
tone  of  contemptuous  wrath,  "  mannermussent 
papers !  Yoh  can't  mannermussent  yoah  ole 
Aunt  Judy !  Deys  life  lef '  in  her  yit ! " 

It  was  done  so  suddenly.  The  reception  of 
freedom  was  so  utterly  unexpected — so  opposed 
to  what  he  had  fondly  hoped — that  Griffith 
stood  amazed.  Katherine  motioned  to  mammy, 
who  still  stood  with  the  white  baby  in  her 
arms.  "  Give  me  the  baby,  mammy.  I 
will " 

"  Mis'  Kate,"  said  the  old  woman,  turning,  as 
she  pushed  her  way  through  the  room,  "  Mis' 
Kate,  do  Mos'  Grif  mean  dat  yo'  alls  is  gwine 
ter  leabe  us  ?  Do  he  mean  dat  we  alls  is  got  ter 
be  free  niggers,  wid  no  fambly  an'  no  big  house 
an'  no  baby  t'  nus  ?  " 


108  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

She  changed  the  child's  position,  and  the  little 
soft,  white  cheek  lay  contentedly  against  the 
black  one. 

"  'Cause,  if  dafs  wat  Mos'  Grif  mean,  dis 
heah  chile  ob  yoahs  an'  ole  mammy,  deys  gwine 
t'  stay  togedder.  Dis  heah  mammy  don't  eben 
tetcJi  no  ole  mannermussent  papers  !  Tar  hit  up 
yo'se'f,  Mis'  Kate,  kase  dis  heah  nigger  ain't 
eben  gwine  t'  tetch  hit.  She's  des  gwine  ter 
put  dis  baby  ter  bed  lak  she  allus  done.  Good 
night,  Mis'  Kate  !  Good-night,  Mos'  Grif  ! " 

She  was  half-way  up  the  stairs,  when  she 
turned. 

"  Mis'  Kate,  sumpin'  er  a-nudder  done  gone 
wrong  wid  Mos'  Grif's  haid.  Sho'  as  yoh  bawn, 
honey,  dat's  a  fack  !  I  wisht  yoh  send  fo'  yoh 
paw.  I  does  dat !  "  and  she  waddled  up  the 
stairs,  with  the  sleeping  child  held  close  to  her 
faithful  heart. 

The  reception  of  the  freedom  papers  by  the 
others  varied  with  temperament  and  age.  Two 
or  three  of  the  younger  ones  reached  in  over 
the  heads  of  those  in  front  of  them  when  their 
names  were  called,  and,  holding  the  papers  in 
their  hands,  "  cut  a  pigeon-wing  "  in  the  moon- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  109 

light.  One  or  two  looked  at  theirs  in.  stupid, 
silent  wonder.  Jerry  and  his  wife  gazed  at  the 
twins,  and,  in  a  half-dazed,  half-shamefaced  way, 
took  theirs.  Jerry  took  all  four  to  Katherine. 
"  Keep  dem  fo'  me,  please,  ma'am,  Mis'  Kath'- 
rine,  kase  I  ain't  got  no  good  place  fer  ter  hide 
'em.  Mebby  dem  dare  chillun  gwine  ter  want 
'em  one  er  dese  here  days." 

Not  one  grasped  the  full  meaning  of  it  all.  It 
was  evident  that  one  and  all  expected  to  live 
along  as  before — to  follow  the  fortunes  of  the 
family. 

"  Thanky,  Mos'  Grif,  much  'bleeged,"  said  old 
Milt,  as  he  took  his,  "  but  I'd  a  heap  site  a-rud- 
der  had  some  mo'  ob  dat  town  terbacker — I 
would  dat,  honey." 

"  Give  it  up  for  to-night,  Griffith,"  said  his 
wife,  gently,  as  he  still  stood  helplessly  trying 
to  explain  again  and  again.  "  You  look  so 
white,  and  I  am  very  tired.  Give  it  up  for  to 
night.  It  will  be  easier  after  they  have  talked 
it  over  together,  perhaps — by  daylight." 

She  pushed  him  gently  into  a  chair  and  mo 
tioned  to  Jerry  to  take  them  all  away.  The  faith 
ful  fellow  remembered,  when  outside,  that  she 


110  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

had  asked  him  to  sing,  but  the  merry  song  she 
had  named  had  no  echo  in  the  hearts  about  him. 
All  understood  that  they  had  failed  to  respond 
to  something  that  the  master  had  expected.  The 
strings  of  his  banjo  rang  out  in  a  few  minor 
chords,  and  as  they  moved  toward  the  quarters 
an  old  forgotten  melody  floated  back — 

O,  de  shadders  am  a  deep'  nin'  on  de  mountains, 
O,  de  shadders  am  a  deep' nin'  on  de  stream, 

An'  I  think  I  hear  an  echo  f'um  de  valley, 
An  echo  ob  de  days  ob  which  I  dream  ! 

Ole  happy  days  !    Ole  happy  days  ! 
Befo'  I  knew  dat  sorrow  could  be  bawn, 

When  I  played  wid  mos'er's  chillun  in  de  medder, 
When  my  wuk  was  done  a-hoein'  ob  de  cawn  ! 

Dose  happy,  happy  days  !    Dose  happy,  happy  days  ! 
Dey'll  come  again  no  mo',  no-o-o  m-o-r-e,  no  more  ! 

Ole  mos'er  is  a-sleepin'  'neath  de  willow  ! 

An'  de  apple  blossoms'  fallin'  on  de  lawn, 
Where  he  used  to  sit  an'  doze  beneath  its  shadder, 

In  de  days  when  I  was  hoein'  ob  de  cawn  ! 

Ole  happy,  etc. 

Dey'll  come  no  mo'  dis  side  de  ribber  Jordan, 
O,  dey'll  come  no  mo'  dis  side  de  golden  shoah  ! 

Foh  de  chillun' s  growed  so  big  dat  deys  forgot  me, 
Kase  I'se  ole  an'  cannot  wuk  foh  dem  no  mo'  ! 

Ole  happy,  etc. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  Ill 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

OUT   OF   BONDAGE. 

"  LOOK  down.  Say  notliin'.  Few  words  com 
prehends  the  whole." 

The  long,  lank  mountaineer  stood  leaning  on 
his  gun  and  looking  listlessly  at  the  collection 
of  bundles,  bags,  children,  dogs,  guns,  banjos, 
and  other  belongings  of  the  Davenport  negroes, 
as  they  waited  about  the  wagons,  now  nearly 
ready  to  start  for  "  Washington  and  the  free 
States  " — that  Mecca  of  the  colored  race.  It  is 
true  that  Lengthy  Patterson  disapproved  of  the 
entire  proceeding,  notwithstanding  his  profound 
respect  for,  and  blind  admiration  of,  Parson 
Davenport,  as  he  always  called  Griffith ;  but  he 
had  tramped  many  miles  to  witness  the  depart 
ure,  which  had  been  heralded  far  and  wide. 
Lengthy's  companion,  known  to  his  familiars  as 
"  Whis  "  Biggs,  slowly  stroked  the  voluminous 
hirsute  adornment  to  which  he  was  indebted  for 


112  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

his  name,  "  Whiskers  "  being  the  original  of  the 
abbreviation  which  was  now  his  sole  designation 
— Whis  stroked  his  beard  and  abstractedly 
kicked  a  stray  dog,  which  ran,  howling,  under 
the  nearest  wagon. 

"  Hit  do  appear  t'  me  that  the  Pahrson  air  a 
leetle  teched  in  the  haid." 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  negroes  looked, 
as  they  always  did,  at  these  mountaineers  in 
contempt. 

Lengthy  dove  into  a  capacious  pocket  and 
produced  a  large  home-twisted  hand  of  tobacco 
and  passed  it  in  silence  to  his  companion,  who 
gnawed  off  a  considerable  section  and  in  silence 
returned  it  to  the  owner. 

"  Let's  set,"  he  remarked,  and  doubled  him 
self  down  on  a  log.  Lengthy  took  the  seat  be 
side  him,  and  gathered  his  ever-present  gun 
between  his  long  legs  and  gazed  into  space. 
Mr.  Biggs  stroked  his  beard  and  remained 
plunged  in  deep  thought.  That  is  to  say,  he 
was  evidently  under  the  impression  that  he  was 
thinking,  albeit  skeptics  had  been  known  to 
point  to  the  dearth  of  results  in  his  conversa 
tion,  and  to  intimate  that  nature  had  designed 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  113 

in  him  not  so  much  a  thinker  as  an  able-bodied 
rack  upon  which  to  suspend  a  luxuriant  growth 
of  beard.  He  was  known  far  and  wide  as 
"  Whis "  Biggs ;  and,  if  there  was  within  or 
without  his  anatomy  anything  more  important, 
or  half  so  much  in  evidence  as  was  his  tremen 
dous  achievement  in  facial  adornment  (if  such 
an  appendage  may  be  called  an  adornment  by 
those  not  belonging  to  a  reverted  type),  no  one 
had  ever  discovered  the  fact.  What  there  was 
of  him,  of  value,  appeared  to  have  run  to  hair. 
The  rest  of  him  was  occupied  in  proudly  dis 
playing  the  fact.  He  stroked  his  beard  and 
looked  wise,  or  he  stroked  his  beard  and 
laughed,  or  he  stroked  his  beard  and  assumed  a 
solemn  air,  as  occasion,  in  his  judgment,  ap 
peared  to  require ;  but  the  occasion  always 
required  him  to  stroke  his  beard,  no  matter 
what  else  might  happen  to  man  or  to  beast. 

But  at  last  the  wagons  pulled  out.  Amidst 
shouts  and  "  Whoas  !  "  and  "  Gees  !  "  and 
"  G'langs  ! "  Amidst  tears  and  laughter  and 
admonitions  from  those  who  went,  and  those 
who  were  left  behind,  the  strange  and  un 
accustomed  procession  took  its  course  toward 


114  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  setting  sun.  The  family  drove,  in  the 
old  Davenport  barouche,  far  enough  behind  to 
avoid  the  dust  of  the  wagons.  The  long  journey 
was  begun  for  master  and  for  freedmen.  Each 
was  launched  on  an  unknown  sea.  Each  was 
filled  with  apprehension  and  with  hope.  Old 
friends  and  relatives  had  gathered  to  witness 
the  departure,  some  to  blame,  some  to  deprecate, 
and  all  to  deplore  the  final  leave-taking. 
Comments  on  the  vanishing  procession  were 
varied  and  numerous.  The  two  mountaineers 
listened  in  silence,  the  one  stroking  his  beard, 
the  other  holding  his  gun.  Some  thought  the 
preacher  undoubtedly  insane,  some  thought  him 
merely  a  dangerous  fanatic,  some  said  he  was 
only  a  plain,  unvarnished  fool  ;  some  insisted 
that  since  he  had  gone  counter  to  public  opinion 
and  the  law  of  the  state,  he  was  a  criminal;  while 
a  semi-silent  few  sighed  and  wished  for  the 
courage  and  the  ability  to  follow  a  like  course. 
The  first  hours  of  the  journey  were  uneventful. 
There  was  a  gloom  on  all  hearts,  which  insured 
silence.  Each  felt  that  he  was  looking  for  the 
last  time  upon  the  valley  of  their  love.  Jerry 
drove  the  family  carriage.  As  they  paused  to 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  115 

lower  the  check-reins  at  the  mill  stream, 
Katherine  bent  suddenly  forward  and  shaded  her 
eyes  with  her  hands.  "  Griffith !  Griffith  ! 
there  goes  Pete  back  over  the  fields  !  I'm  sure 
it  is  Pete.  No  other  negro  has  that  walk — that 
lope.  See  !  He  looked  back !  He  is  running  ! 
I  know  it  is  Pete  I  " 

Mr.  Davenport  sprang  from  the  carriage  and 
shouted  to  the  fleeing  man.  He  placed  his 
hands  to  the  sides  of  his  face  and  shouted  again 
and  again. 

"Shell  I  runfoh"im,  Mos'  Grif  ?"  asked 
Jerry  passing  the  lines  to  his  mistress.  "  I  lay 
I  kin  ketch  'im  'n  I'll  fetch '  im  back,  too,  fo' 
he  gits  to  de  cross-roads  !  " 

He  grasped  the  carriage  whip  and  prepared  to 
start.  The  shouts  had  served  to  redouble  Pete's 
speed. 

"  He  was  your  negro,  Katherine,  shall  I  let 
him  go  ?  "  Griffith  said  in  a  tired  voice. 

"  Yes,  yes,  oh,  Griffith,  let  him  stay  in  Vir 
ginia  if  he  wants  to.  We  can't  have  him  with 
us — why,  why  not  let  him  stay  here  ?  " 

Griffith  sighed.  His  wife  knew  quite  well 
why ;  but  she  was  nervous  and  overwrought  and 


116  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

feared  resistance  should  Pete  be  brought  to 
bay — might  he  not  fight  for  his  freedom  to 
remain  where  he  might  not  be  free  ! 

The  wagons  had  all  stopped.  One  of  the 
twins,  with  ashen  face,  came  running  back  to 
report  Pete's  escape.  "  Mos'  Grif,  Oh,  Lordy, 
Mos'Grif!  Pete  he's  run  off  !  Pete " 

It  was  plain  to  be  seen  that  the  negroes  were 
restless  and  expectant.  The  tone  and  atmos 
phere  of  uncertainty  among  them,  the  tearful 
eyes  of  some,  and  the  sullen  scowl  of  others 
quickly  decided  Mr.  Davenport.  It  was  no 
time  for  indecision.  Prompt  action  alone 
would  prevent  a  panic  and  a  stampede. 
Katherine  spoke  a  few  hasty  words  to  him  as  he 
leaned  on  the  carriage-door.  He  sprang  in. 
"  Go  on  ! "  he  shouted.  "  Go  on  !  We  can't 
all  stop  now.  We  must  cross  the  ferry  to 
night  !  "  Then  as  a  precaution  he  said  to  the 
twin  :  "  Catch  up  and  tell  Judy  that  'Squire 
Nelson  will  get  Pete  if  he  tries  to  stay  here." 

'  Squire  Nelson,  the  terrible  !  '  Squire  Nel 
son  !  who  had  called  before  him  a  runaway  boy 
and  calmly  shot  him  through  the  leg  as  an  ex 
ample  to  his  fellows,  and  then  sent  him  to  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  117 

quarters  to  repent  his  rash  act — and  incidentally 
to  act  as  a  warning !  'Squire  Nelson  1  Did 
the  manumission  papers  give  those  who  stayed 
behind  to  'Squire  Nelson  ?  The  negroes  looked 
into  each  other's  faces  in  silent  fear,  and  drove 
rapidly  on. 

An  hour  later,  as  they  were  looking  at  the 
glorious  sunset,  and  Griffith  was  struggling  to 
be  his  old  cheery  self,  Katherine  said  sadly: 
"  We  are  as  much  exiled  as  they,  Griffith.  "We 
could  never  come  back."  She  choked  up  and 
then,  steadying  her  voice,  "  If  you  think  it  is 
God's  will  we  must  submit;  but — but  every 
thing  makes  it  so  hard — so  cruelly  hard.  I  am 
so  afraid.  I — no  one  ever — every  one  loved 
you  before,  and  now — now — did  you  see  the 
faces,  Griffith,  when  we  left?  Did  you  see 
'Squire  Nelson's  face  ?  "  She  shuddered. 

"  Oh,  is  that  all  ? "  he  exclaimed  lightly. 
"  Is  that  it,  Katherine  ?  Well,  don't  worry  over 
that,  dear.  We  won't  be  here  to  see  it,  and — of 
course  he  wouldn't  like  it.  Of  course  it  will 
make  trouble  among  his  negroes  for  awhile  and 
I  am  sorry  for  that.  I  don't  wonder  he  feels — 


118  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  But,  Griffith,"  she  said  nervously,  "  we  are 
not  out  of  the  State  yet,  and — and,  Griffith,"  she 
lowered  her  voice  to  make  sure  that  Jerry 
would  not  hear,  "  can't  the  law  do  something 
dreadful  to  you  for  leaving  Pete  here,  free? 
What  can " 

"  Jerry,  I  wish  you'd  drive  up  a  little.  Get 
to  the  ferry  before  it  is  too  dark  to  cross,  can't 
you  ? "  said  Griffith,  and  then,  "  Don't  worry 
about  that,  Katherine,  Pete  won't  dare  show 

himself  for  a  day  or  two,  and  besides "  He 

paused.  The  silence  ran  into  minutes.  Then 
he  reached  over  and  took  her  hand  and  with 
closed  eyes  he  hummed  as  they  rode,  or  broke  off 
to  point  silently  to  some  picturesque  spot  or 
to  whistle  to  a  robin.  There  was  a  nervous 
tension  on  them  all. 

"  Mos'  Grif ,  hit  gwine  ter  be  too  late  to  cross 
dat  ferry  to-night.  Ain't  we  better  stop  at  dat 
big  house  over  dar  ?  " 

Mr.  Davenport  opened  his  eyes.  He  had 
been  humming — without  time  and  with  long 
pauses  between  the  words — one  of  his  favorite 
hymns.  He  looked  out  into  the  twilight, 
"  That's  Ferris's  old  mill  and  the  Ferris  house, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  119 

isn't  it,  Katherine  ?  Yes,  Jerry,  call  to  the  boys 
to  stop.  We  will  have  to  stay  over.  It  is  too 
late  to  cross  now.  That  ferry  isn't  very  safe 
even  in  daylight." 

The  following  morning,  just  before  sunrise, 
there  was  a  rap  at  the  door,  and  a  servant  came 
to  say  that  Mr.  Davenport  was  wanted. 
Katherine  was  white  with  fear.  She  sprang 
from  bed  and  went  to  the  window.  There,  in 
front  of  the  house,  stood  Lengthy  Patterson, 
gun  in  hand,  and  beside  him,  sullen,  crest 
fallen,  and  with  one  foot  held  in  his  hands, 
stood  Pete.  Griffith  threw  open  the  window,  and 
Lengthy  waited  for  no  prelude.  He  nodded 
as  if  such  calls  were  of  daily  occurrence,  and 
then  jerked  his  head  toward  Pete.  "  Saw  him 
runnin'.  Told  him  t'  stop.  He  dim'  out 
faster.  Knowed  you  wanted  him."  He  pointed 
to  Pete's  foot.  It  was  bleeding.  There  was  a 
bullet  hole  through  the  instep.  "  Few  words 
comprehends  the  whole,"  added  the  mountaineer 
and  relaxed  his  features  into  what  he  intended 
for  a  humorous  expression.  Griffith  turned 
sick  and  faint.  'Squire  Nelson's  lesson  had 
been  well  learned  even  by  this  mountaineer. 


120  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Pete  was  a  dangerous  negro  to  be  without  con 
trol,  that  was  true.  As  a  free  negro  left  here 
without  ties,  it  was  only  a  question  of  time 
when  he  would  commit  some  desperate  deed, 
and  yet  what  was  to  be  done  ?  Lengthy 
appeared  to  grasp  the  preacher's  thought.  He 
slowly  seated  himself  on  the  front  step  and 
motioned  Pete  to  sit  on  the  grass. 

"  Don't  fret.  Take  yer  time.  I'm  a  goin' 
t'  the  ferry.  Few  words  comprehends  th' 
whole,"  he  remarked  to  Griffith,  and  ex 
amined  the  lock  of  his  gun,  with  critical  delib 
eration.  When  the  wagons  were  ready  to  start 
Jerry  whispered  to  his  master  that  two  of  the 
other  young  negroes  had  run  off  during  the  night, 
and  yet  Mr.  Davenport  pushed  on.  It  was  not 
until  late  the  next  afternoon  when  the  dome  of 
the  Capitol  at  Washington  burst  upon  their 
sight  that  Griffith  and  Katherine  breathed  free. 
The  splendid  vision  in  the  distance  put  new  life 
and  interest  in  the  negroes.  Their  restlessness 
settled  into  a  childlike  and  emotional  merry 
making,  and  snatches  of  song,  and  banter,  and 
laughter  told  that  danger  of  revolt  or  of 
stampede  was  over.  Judy,  alone,  sulked  in  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  li>l 

wagons,  and  Mammy  vented  her  discontent  on 
the  younger  ones  by  word  and  blow,  if  they 
ventured  too  near  her  or  her  white  charge.  At 
last  the  Long  Bridge  alone  stood  between  them 
and  a  liberty  that  could  not  be  gainsaid — and 
another  liberty  for  the  master  which  had  been 
so  dearly  and  hazardously  bought. 

The  Long  Bridge  was  spanned  and  the 
strange  party  drove  down  Pennsylvania  Ave 
nue  to  the  office  of  the  attorney  who  had 
arranged  for  their  reception.  The  Long  Bridge 
was  past  and  safety  was  theirs !  Griffith 
glanced  back  and  then  turned  to  look.  "  Kath- 
erine,"  he  said,  smiling  sadly,  "  we  have  crossed 
the  dead  line.  We  are  all  safe  !  "  He  sighed 
with  the  smile  still  on  his  lips. 

"  It  is  terrible  not  to  feel  safe  !  Terrible  ! 
Terrible  !"  she  said  in  an  undertone,  "  not  to  feel 
safe  from  pursuit,  from  behind,  and  from  un 
known  and  unaccustomed  dangers  near  at 
hand — terrible  !  " 

So  accustomed  had  Griffith  been  to  caring 
for  and  housing  these  negroes,  who,  now  that 
they  were  in  the  midst  of  wonders  of  which  they 
never  had  dreamed,  clung  to  him  with  an  abid- 


122  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ing  faith  that  whatever  should  betide  he  would 
be  there  to  meet  it  for  them — so  accustomed  had 
he  been  to  caring  for  them  that  it  had  never 
occurred  to  Griffith  not  do  so,  even  now  when 
they  were  no  longer  his. 

"  Are  the  cabins  ready  ? "  he  asked  the  at 
torney's  clerk,  and  sent  all  but  Mammy  to  the 
huts  which  had  been  provided  on  the  out 
skirts. 

"  Go  along  with  this  gentleman,  children," 
he  said.  "  Mammy  will  stay  with  us,  and  after 
Jerry  takes  us  to  the  hotel  he  will  come  and 
tell  you  what  else  to  do.  Good-bye  !  Good 
bye  !  Keep  together  until  Jerry  comes." 

All  was  uncertainty ;  but  it  was  understood 
by  all  that  several  of  the  negroes  were  to  go 
with  the  family  and  the  rest  to  remain  here. 
Griffith  had  decided  to  take  to  his  new  home 
Jerry  and  his  wife,  Ellen,  and  the  twins ; 
Mammy  and  Judy,  and,  if  possible,  Sally  and 
John.  It  was  here,  and  now,  that  he  learned 
the  inhospitality  of  the  free  states  to  the  freed 
negroes. 

"  I  intend  to  take  several  of  them  with  me 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  123 

"  Can't  do  it,"  broke  in  the  attorney,  "  In 
diana  's  a  free  state." 

"  Well,  I  can  take  'em  along  and  hire  'em,  I 
reckon." 

"  Reckon  you  can't  —  not  in  Indiana." 

"What!" 

"  I  said  you  couldn't  take  'em  along  and  hire 
'em." 

"  I'd    like    to    know   the   reason    for    that. 


"  Law.     Law's  against  it." 

Griffith  drew  his  hand  across  his  face  as  if  he 
had  lost  his  power  to  think. 

"  You  can't  take  any  of  'em  to  Indiana,  I 
tell  you,"  said  the  attorney  insistently,  and 
Griffith  seemed  dazed.  Then  he  began  again  : 

"  Can't  take  them  !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  utter 
dismay. 

"  That's  what  I  said  twice  —  can't  take 
them  —  none  of  them." 

"But  I  shall  pay  them  wages  !  Surely  I  can 
take  my  own  choice  of  servants  into  my  own 
household  if  they  are  free  and  I  pay  them 
wages  !  Surely  -  " 

"Surely  you  cannot,   I   tell  you,"  said  the 


124  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

attorney,  and  added  dryly,  "  not  unless  you  are 
particularly  anxious  to  run  up  against  the  law 
pretty  hard."  He  reached  up  and  took  down  a 
leather-bound  volume.  He  turned  the  leaves 
slowly,  and  Griffith  and  Katherine  looked  at 
each  other  in  dismay.  "  There  it  is  in  black  and 
white.  Not  a  mere  law,  either — sometimes  you 
can  evade  a  law,  if  you  are  willing  to  risk  it ; 
but  from  the  way  you  both  feel  about  leaving 
those  two  free  niggers  in  Virginia,  I  guess  you 
won't  be  very  good  subjects  for  that  sort  of 
thing — thirteenth  article  of  the  constitution  of 
the  State  itself."  He  drew  a  pencil  mark  along 
one  side  of  the  paragraph  as  Griffith  read. 
"  Oh !  you'll  find  these  free  states  have  got 
mighty  little  use  for  niggers.  Came  here  from 
one  of  'em  myself.  Free  or  not  free,  they  don't 
want  'em.  You  see,"  he  said,  slowly  drawing 
a  line  down  the  other  side  of  the  page,  "  they 
prohibit  you  from  giving  employment  to  one ! 
Don't  propose  to  have  free  nigger  competition 
with  their  white  labor.  Can't  blame  'em."  He 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

Griffith  began  to  protest.     "  But  I  have  read 
— I  thought " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  125 

"  Of  course  you  thought — and  you've  read  a 
lot  of  spread-eagle  stuff,  I  don't  doubt.  Talk 
is  one  of  the  cheapest  commodities  in  this 
world ;  but  when  it  comes  to  acts — "  he 
chuckled  cynically,  "  s'pose  you  had  an  idea 
that  the  border  States  were  just  holding  out 
their  arms  to  catch  and  shield  and  nurture  and 
feed  with  a  gold  spoon  every  nigger  you 
Southern  men  were  fools  enough  to  set  free ; 
but  the  cold  fact  is  they  won't  even  let  you 
bring  them  over  and  pay  'em  to  work  for  you  ! 
That  is  one  of  the  charming  little  differences 
between  theory  and  practice.  They've  got  the 
theory  and  you've  had  the  practice  of  looking 
after  the  niggers  !  Your  end  is  a  damned  sight 
more  difficult  than  theirs,  as  you'll  discover,  if 
you  haven't  already.  Excuse  me,  I  forgot  you 
were  a  preacher.  You  don't  look  much  like 
one."  Griffith  smiled  and  bowed.  Katherine 
had  gone  to  the  front  window,  where  Mammy 
and  the  baby  were  enjoying  the  unaccustomed 
sights  of  the  street.  Griffith  and  the  lawyer 
moved  toward  them. 

"  No,  sir,  your  niggers  have  all  got  to  stay 
right  here  in  Washington  and  starve  or  steal. 


126  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

You  can't  take  'em  to  Indiana,  that's  mighty 
certain.  Why,  when  that  Constitution  was 
passed  only  a  year  or  two  ago,  there  wern't  but 
21,000  voters  in  the  whole  blessed  State  that 
didn't  vote  to  punish  a  white  man  for  even  giv 
ing  employment  to  a  free  nigger.  Public  senti 
ment  as  well  as  law  is  all  against  you.  You 
can't  take  those  niggers  to  Indiana — that's  cer 
tain  !  " 

"  Dar  now  !  Dar  now  !  wat  I  done  tole  you  ?  " 
exclaimed  Mammy.  "  What  I  done  tole  Mos' 
Grif  'bout  all  dis  foolishness  ?  Mis'  Kate,  you 
ain't  gwine  ter  'low  dat  is  you  ?  Me  an'  Judy 
free  niggers !  Town  free  niggers  wid  no 
fambly  !  "  The  tone  indicated  that  no  lower 
depth  of  degradation  and  misfortune  than  this 
could  be  thrust  upon  any  human  being. 

"  I's  gwine  ter  keep  dis  heah  baby,  den. 
Who  gwine  ter  take  cahr  ob  her  widout  me  ?  " 
The  child  was  patting  the  black  face  and  pull 
ing  the  black  ear  in  a  gleeful  effort  to  call  forth 
the  usual  snort  and  threat  to  "swaller  her 
whole." 

"  Bless  yoah  hawt,  honey,  yoh  ain't  gwine  t' 
hab  no  odder  nus,  is  yo'  ?  Nus !  Nus ! 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  127 

White  trash  t'  nus  my  baby !  Yoh  des  gwine 
ter  hab  yoh  ole  mammy,  dat's  wat !  " 

The  attorney  took  Mr.  Davenport  and  Kath- 
erine  to  an  inner  office.  It  was  two  hours  later 
when  they  came  out.  Both  were  pale  and  half 
dazed,  but  arrangements  had  been  made,  papers 
had  been  drawn,  by  which  the  nine  oldest 
negroes  were,  in  future,  to  appear  at  this  office 
once  every  three  months  and  draw  the  sum  of 
twenty-four  dollars  each,  so  long  as  they  might 
live.  The  younger  ones  must  hereafter  shift, 
as  best  they  could,  for  themselves.  The  die 
was  cast.  The  bridges  were  burned  behind 
them.  There  was  no  return,  and  the  negroes 
were  indeed,  "  free,  town  niggers,"  henceforth. 

"  God  forgive  me  if  I  have  done  wrong,"  said 
Griffith,  as  he  left  the  office.  "  If  I  have  done 
wrong  in  deserting  these  poor  black  children, 
for  children  they  will  always  be,  though  pen 
sioned  as  too  old  to  work  !  Poor  Mammy,  Poor 
Judy  !  And  Mart,  and  old  Peyton  ! " 

He  shook  his  head  and  compressed  his  lips  as 
he  walked  toward  the  door,  with  a  stoop  in  his 
shoulders  that  was  not  there  when  he  had  en 
tered.  All  the  facts  of  this  manumission  were 


128  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

so  wholly  at  variance  with  the  established  the 
ories.  Every  thing  had  been  so  different  from 
even  what  Griffith  had  expected  to  meet.  As 
they  reached  the  door  the  attorney  took  the 
proffered  hand  and  laughed  a  little,  satirically. 

"  Now  I  want  you  to  tell  me  what  good  you 
expect  all  this  to  do  ?  What  was  the  use  ? 
What  is  gained  ?  It's  clear  to  a  man  without  a 
spy-glass  what's  lost  all  around;  but  it's  going 
to  puzzle  a  prophet  to  show  where  the  gain 
comes  in,  in  a  case  like  this.  If  you'll  excuse 
the  remark,  sir,  it  looks  like  a  piece  of  romantic 
torn-foolery,  to  a  man  up  a  tree.  A  kind  of 
torn-foolery,  that  does  harm  all  around — to 
black  and  to  white,  to  bond  and  to  free.  Of 
course  if  all  of  'em  were  free  it  would,  no  doubt, 
be  better.  I'm  inclined  to  think  that  way,  my 
self.  But  just  tell  me  how  many  slave-owners 
— even  if  they  wanted  to  do  it — could  do  as  you 
have  ?  Simply  impossible !  Then,  besides, 
where'd  they  go — the  niggers  ?  Pension  the 
whole  infernal  lot  ?  Gad !  but  it's  the  dream 
of  a  man  who  never  will  wake  up  to  this  world, 
as  it  is  built.  And  what  good  have  you  done  ? 
Just  stop  long  enough  to  tell  me  that ; "  he 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT  129 

insisted,  still  holding  Griffith's  hand.  He  was 
smiling  down  at  his  client  who  stood  on  a 
lower  step.  There  was  in  his  face  a  tinge  of 
contempt  and  of  pity  for  the  lack  of  worldly 
wisdom. 

"  I'm  not  pretending  to  judge  for  you  nor  for 
other  men,  Mr.  Wapley,  but  for  myself  it  was 
wrong  to  own  them.  That  is  all.  That  is 
simple,  is  it  not?"  The  lawyer  thought  it 
was,  indeed,  very,  very  simple  ;  but  to  a  nature 
like  Griffith's  it  was  all  the  argument  needed. 
His  face  was  clouded,  for  the  lawyer  did  not 
seem  satisfied.  Griffith  could  not  guess 
why. 

"  My  conscience  troubled  me.  I  am  not  advis 
ing  other  men  to  do  as  I  have  done.  Sometimes 
I  feel  almost  inclined  to  advise  them  not  to  fol 
low  my  example  if  they  can  feel  satisfied  not  to 
— the  cost  is  very  great — bitterly  heavy  has  the 
cost  been  in  a  thousand  ways  that  no  one  can 
ever  know  but  the  man  who  tries  it — and  this 
little  woman,  here."  He  took  her  hand  and 
turned  to  help  her  into  the  carriage. 

"  Ah,  Katherine,  you  have  been  very  brave  ! 

The  worst  has  fallen  on  you,  after  all — for  no 
y 


130  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

sense  of  imperative  duty  urged  you  on.  For 
my  sake  you  have  yielded  !  Her  bravery,  sir, 
has  been  double,  and  it  is  almost  more  than  I 
can  bear  to  ask  it — to  accept  it — of  her  !  For 
my  own  sake  !  It  has  been  selfish,  in  a  sense, 
selfish  in  me." 

Katherine  smiled  through  dim  eyes  and 
pressed  her  lips  hard  together.  She  did  not 
trust  herself  to  speak.  She  bowed  to  the 
attorney  and  turned  toward  Mammy  and  the 
baby  as  they  stood  by  the  carriage  door. 

"  I'm  a-goin'  wid  yoh  alls  to  de  hotel,  ain't  I, 
Mis'  Kath'rine  ?  Dar  now,  honey,  des  put  yoah 
foot  dar  an'  in  yoh  goes  !  Jerry,  can't  yoh  hoi' 
dem  bosses  still !  Whoa,  dar  !  Whoa  !  Mos' 
Beverly,  he  radder  set  in  front  wid  Jerry,  an'  I 
gwine  ter  set  inside  wid  de  baby,  an'  yo'  alls." 

The  old  woman  bustled  about  and  gave 
orders  until  they  were,  at  last,  at  the  door  of 
the  Metropolitan,  where,  until  other  matters 
were  arranged,  the  family  would  remain. 

Strange  as  it  may  seem,  to  save  themselves 
from  the  final  trial  of  a  heartbreaking  farewell, 
from  protests,  from  the  sight  of  weeping 
children  and  excited  negroes,  three  days  later 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  131 

Mr.  Davenport  and  his  family  left  by  an  early 
train  for  the  west  before  the  negroes,  aside  from 
Jerry,  knew  that  they  were  gone.  And  in  the 
place  of  the  spectacle  of  a  runaway  negro 
escaping  from  white  owners,  the  early  loungers 
beheld  a  runaway  white  family  escaping  from 
the  galling  bondage  of  ownership  ! 


13-2  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

"  One  touch  of  nature." — Shakespeare. 

As  time  wore  on  the  family  had,  in  some  sort, 
at  least,  adjusted  itself  to  the  new  order  of 
things.  The  dialect  of  the  strapping  Irish 
woman  who  presided  over  the  kitchen  of  the 
small  but  comfortable  new  home,  and  the  no  less 
unaccustomed  speech  of  the  natives,  themselves, 
were  a  never  failing  source  of  amusement  to  the 
children  and,  indeed,  to  Griffith  himself.  His 
old  spirits  seemed  to  return  as  he  would  repeat, 
with  his  hearty  laugh,  the  village  gossip, 
couched  in  the  village  forms  of  speech. 

Each  day  as  he  opened  his  Cincinnati  C-azette 
he  would  laugh  out  some  bit  of  town  news  which 
he  had  overheard  at  the  post-office  or  on  his  way 
home.  The  varying  forms  of  penuriousness  ex 
hibited  in  the  dealings  between  the  farmers  and 
the  villagers  impressed  him  as  most  amusing  of  all. 
The  haggling  over  a  few  cents,  or  the  payment 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  133 

of  money  between  neighbors  for  fruit  or  milk  or 
services  of  a  nature  which  he  had  always  looked 
upon  as  ordinary  neighborly  courtesy,  rilled  him 
with  mirth.  One  day,  shortly  after  their  arrival, 
Beverly  had  brought  his  mother  a  dozen 
peaches  from  a  neighbor's  yard.  The  boy  had 
supposed  when  asked  if  his  mother  would  not 
like  them  that  they  were  intended  as  a  present. 
He  thanked  the  owner  heartily  and  said  that  he 
was  sure  his  mother  would  very  greatly  enjoy 
them. 

"  After  he  gave  them  to  me,"  the  boy  said, 
indignantly,  '  Six  cents  wuth,  an'  cheap  at 
that ! '  says  he,  and  held  out  his  hand !  Well,  I 
could  have  fainted !  Selling  twelve  peaches  to 
a  neighbor  !  Why,  a  mountaineer  wouldn't  do 
that!  And  then  he  had  asked  me  to  take 
them !  I  had  ten  cents  in  my  pocket  and  I 
]  landed  it  to  him  and  walked  off.  He  yelled 
something  to  me  about  change,  but  I  never 
looked  back." 

His  father  enjoyed  the  joke,  as  he  called  it, 
immensely.  He  chuckled  over  it  again  and 
again  as  he  sat  in  the  twilight. 

One  day  late  in  that  summer — the  summer  of 


134  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

'57 — the  children  were  attracted  by  a  great 
uproar  and  noise  in  the  street.  A  group  of 
school  children,  some  street  loafers,  and  a  few 
mature  but  curious,  grown  citizens  were 
gathered  about  an  object  in  the  middle  of  the 
street.  Hoots  and  shouts  of  derision  went  up. 
A  half-witted  girl  circled  slowly  about  the 
outskirts  of  the  crowd  making  aimless  motions 
and  passes  with  her  hands  toward  the  object  of 
interest.  Voices  clashed  with  voices  in  an 
effort  to  gain  coherent  sound  and  sense.  Was 
it  a  bear  or  a  hand  organ  ?  The  children  ran  to 
see.  Beverly  followed  more  slowly.  Beverly 
seemed  a  young  man  now,  so  sedate  and  digni 
fied  was  this  oldest  son. 

"What  is  it?" 

"  Look  out  there  !  Look  out  there  !  It's 
going  that  way  !  " 

"  What  ?     What  you  say  ?     Who  ?  " 

"  Who  is  Mosgrif  ?  No  man  by  that  name 
don't  live  here." 

"  Digger,  nigger,  pull  a  trigger,  never  grow 
an  inch  a  bigger  !  " 

"  Get  her  some  soap !  Let's  take  her  and  give 
her  a  wash  I  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  135 

"  What  ?  Who  ?  Shut  up  your  noise  there, 
will  you,  Dave  Benton.  She's  askin'  fer  some 
body — some  feller  she  knows.  Who  ?  " 

There  was  a  pause  in  the  progress  of  the  pro 
cession  as  it  reached  Mr.  Davenport's  side 
gate.  Beverly  was  craning  his  neck  to  see  over 
the  heads  of  the  crowd.  His  two  brothers  took 
a  surer  method.  They  dodged  under  arms  and 
between  legs  and  were  making  straight  for  the 
center  of  the  crowd  where  they  had  heard  an 
accustomed  voice. 

"  What  I  axes  yo'  alls  is,  whah's  my  Mos' 
Grif !  Dey  done  tole  me  down  yander  dat  he 
lib  down  dis  a-way.  Whah's  my  Mos'  Grif's 
house  ?  I  got  ter  fine  my  Mos'  Grif !  " 

"  Aunt  Judy !  Aunt  Judy ! "  shrieked  the 
two  younger  boys,  in  mad  delight.  "  It's  Aunt 
Judy !  Oh,  Beverly,  come  quick  !  She's  hurt ! 
She's  been  struck  with  a  rock  !  Come  quick — 
quick !  " 

LeRoy  had  reached  the  old  woman,  who  be 
gan  to  tremble  and  cry  as  soon  as  she  felt  that 
friends  were  indeed  near.  She  threw  her  arms 
about  his  neck  and  half-sobbed  with  joy.  Then 
she  tried  to  pick  up  the  younger  boy  in  her 


136  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

arms,  as  of  old,  but  her  strength  gave  way,  and 
she  fell  on  her  knees  beside  her  bundle  and 
stick.  A  laughing  shout  went  up.  Dave  Ben- 
ton  shied  a  small  stone  at  her. 

"  How  dare  you  !  How  dare  you  !  you  com 
mon  loafers ! "  shrieked  LeRoy,  white  with 
rage.  He  struck  out  with  both  fists  at  those 
who  were  nearest.  "  How  dare  you  throw 
at  Aunt  Judy !  How  dare  you,  you  low- 
down 1" 

Words  failed  him,  and  he  was  choking  with 
rage,  but  both  fists  were  finding  a  mark  on  the 
Tisage  of  the  prostrate  Dave.  His  fists  and  the 
astonishment  felt  at  the  sight  of  white  children 
caressing  and  calling  the  old  black  creature 
"  aunty "  had  served  to  clear  a  space  about 
them.  Every  one  had  fallen  back.  The  half 
witted  girl  alone  remained  with  the  center- 
group,  making  aimless  passes,  with  ill-regulated 
hands,  at  Aunt  Judy.  So  absorbing  was  this 
strange  creature  to  the  bewildered  senses  that 
not  even  the  struggling  boys  on  the  ground  at 
her  feet  served  to  divert  her  gaze  from  the  old 
black  face. 

"  His  aunt's  a  nigger !  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  137 

"  Kissed  her,  by  gum  ! " 

"  They're  the  Virginia  preacher's  kids  !  " 

"  Never  knew  before  that  some  of  their  kin 
was  niggers  ! " 

Dave  Benton  was  now  on  top,  and  Howard 
was  pulling  at  his  leg  in  an  effort  to  help  his 
brother.  Suddenly  Roy  swirled  on  top  and 
grasped  the  helpless  Dave  by  the  throat. 

"  You  let  her  alone,  you  dirty  little  — devil ! " 
he  ground  out  between  his  teeth,  "  or  I'll  kill 
you!" 

His  rage  was  so  intense,  his  face  was  so  set 
and  livid,  that  it  looked  as  if  he  might  execute 
the  threat  before  the  astonished  and  half-amused 
bystanders  realized  the  danger.  Beverly  sprang 
to  the  rescue.  He  had  hustled  Judy  through 
the  side  gate  and  into  the  house  with  Howard. 

"  LeRoy  !  LeRoy !  stop — stop  !  Get  up !  let 
go !  Get  up  this  instant !  "  he  commanded,  loos 
ening  the  boy's  grasp.  "  Look  at  that  blood ! 
Father  will  be  so  ashamed  of  you  !  " 

He  pushed  the  boy  ahead  of  him  and  the  door 
closed  behind  them,  leaving  a  hooting  mob  out 
side  and  Dave  Benton  with  a  bleeding  nose  and 
a  very  sore  head. 


138  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  Got  a  nigger  fer  a  ant,  by  gosh ! "  exclaimed 
one,  as  they  turned  slowly  away,  leaving  the 
weak-minded  girl  alone  circling  about  the  gate, 
making  inarticulate  noises  and  movements  of 
indirection  at  the  house  and  its  curious  and  un 
canny  new  occupant. 

But  LeRoy's  blows  and  his  taunts  bore  fruit 
in  due  season.  A  week  later,  Dave  Benton's 
father,  who  had  nursed  his  wrath,  caused  serv 
ice  to  be  made  upon  Mr.  Davenport  to  show 
cause  why  he  was  not  infringing  the  law  and 
the  State  constitution  by  keeping  in  his  service 
a  free  negro.  Mr.  Davenport  explained  to  the 
court  that  he  had  not  brought  her  into  the  State 
and  was  in  no  way  responsible  for  her  having 
come.  Indeed,  Judy  would  not  or  could  not 
tell  exactly  how  she  had  managed  it  herself. 
That  she  had  been  helped  forward  by  some  one 
seemed  evident.  But  Griffith's  plea  would  not 
suffice.  She  was  here.  He  was  avowedly  the 
cause  of  her  coming.  She  was  a  free  negro.  He 
was  giving  her  employment.  That  was  against 
the  State  constitution.  Clearly,  she  must  be 
sent  away.  Griffith  consulted  with  a  lawyer. 
The  lawyer  gravely  stated,  in  open  court,  that 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  139 

the  old  negro  was  a  guest,  and  not  an  employe", 
of  the  Davenport  family.  The  judge  smiled. 
There  was  no  law,  no  constitutional  provision, 
no  statute  to  prevent  a  family  from  having  ne 
gro  guests  in  Indiana;  provided  they  would 
give  bond  for  the  good  behavior  during  life,  and 
burial  in  case  of  death,  of  such  guest ! 

"  By  gum !  I  reckon  she  is  kin  to  'em,  shore 
'miff ! "  remarked  Dave's  father,  sotto  voce. 
"  Wonder  which  one's  sister  she  is — her'n  or 
his'n?" 

"  Do'  know,  but  it's  one  er  t'other ;  fer  all 
three  o'  the  boys  call  her  ant,  'n'  the  little  gal, 
too.  She  rides  on  her  back.  Seen  her  out  in 
the  yard  t'other  day." 

"  'Fore  I'd  let  one  o'  mine  kiss  a  nigger  'n' 
ride  on  her  back  !  " 

"Well,  I  should  smile!" 

"  Sh  !     What's  that  the  jedge  said  ?  " 

"  Goin'  t'  take  it  under  'dvisement,  perviden' 
Davenport  agrees  t'  bind  hisself — give  bon'." 

And  so  it  came  about,  as  I  told  you  in  the  be 
ginning,  that  this  man,  who  was  already  a  law 
breaker  in  his  native  State,  unblushingly  be 
came  a  law-evader  in  the  State  of  his  adoption  ; 


140  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

for  the  papers  were  duly  drawn  up  and  finally 
signed  and  executed.  Aunt  Judy  was  officially 
and  legally  declared  not  to  be  employed  by,  but 
to  be  a  visitor  in,  the  family ;  "  and,  furthermore, 
it  is  declared  and  agreed,  that,  in  case  of  her  be 
coming  indigent,  or  in  case  of  her  death  while 
within  the  borders  of  the  State,  the  aforenamed 
Rev.  Griffith  Davenport  binds  himself,  his  heirs 
and  assigns,  to  support  while  living,  or  bury  in 
case  of  the  death  of  the  aforenamed  Judy  Dav 
enport  (colored)  ;  and,  furthermore,  agrees 
that  she  shall  in  no  manner  whatsoever  be 
come  a  charge  upon  the  State  of  Indiana. 
The  expenses  of  this  procedure  to  be  paid,  also, 
by  the  said  Rev.  Griffith  Davenport." 

"  I  reckon  my  conscience  is  getting  a  little 
tough,  Katherine,"  said  her  husband,  smiling, 
that  night  as  he  recited  the  matter  to  the 
family.  "  I  signed  that  paper  with  precious 
little  compunction — and  yet  it  was  evading  the 
law,  pure  and  simple — so  far  as  the  intent  goes  ! 
Fancy  Aunt  Judy  looking  upon  herself  as  a 
guest  of  the  family !  Ha  !  ha !  ha  I  ha  !  "  The 
idea  so  amused  him  that  he  laughed  uproariously. 
Five  minutes  later  there  floated  out  on  to  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT  141 

porch,  where  Judy  sat  with  the  children  telling 
them  wonderful  tales  of  Washington,  the  notes 
of  "  Joy  to  the  world  !  The  Lord  has  come  ! " 

"  De  good  Lawd,  bless  my  soul !  "  exclaimed 
the  old  woman,  listening,  "  I  ain't  heerd  nothin' 
so  good  as  dat  soun'  ter  me,  sense  yo'  alls 
runned  away !  Dat  sholy  do  soun'  like  ole 
times  !  Hit  sholy  do  !  " 

Rosanna,  the  Irish  cook,  sniffed.  She  was 
hanging  out  of  the  kitchen  window  listening  to 
aunt  Judy's  tales  of  adventure.  "  She  do  talk  the 
quarest,  schure,  an'  it's  barely  the  rear  av  her 
remarks  thet  a  Christian  can  understhand ; " 
mumbled  Rosanna  to  herself. 

"  Well,  but  how  about  the  twins,  Aunt  Judy? 
You  said  you'd  tell  us  all  about  the  twins  just 
as  soon  as  supper  was  over.  Now,  hurry,  or  I'll 
have  to  go  to  bed,"  urged  Howard. 

The  old  woman  shifted  around  in  her  chair  to 
make  sure  the  ears  of  Rosanna  were  not  too 
near  and  lowered  her  voice  to  a  stage  whisper. 

"  Honey,  dem  dar  twins  is  des  so  spilt  dat 
dey  is  gettin'  tainty !  " 

"  Bad,  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Roy. 

u  Dat's  wat  I  said,  an'  dat's  wat  I  sticks  to. 


142  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Dey's  so  spilte  dey's  tainty.  Bad!  Why  bad 
ain't  no  name  fo'  hit.  Dey  is  mouldy.  De 
onliest  reason  why  dey  ain't  in  the  lock-up  is 
kase  dey  ain't  got  ketched  up  wid  yit.  Dey 
gwine  ter  git  dar,  sho'  as  yoh  bawn.  Dey  is 
dat!" 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  don't  believe  the  twins 
are  so  bad.  You  are  just  mad  at  'em. 
They "  Roy  was  always  a  partisan. 

"  Look  a  heah,  honey,  yoh  don't  know  what 
yoh's  talkin'  'bout.  Dem  twins  is  plum  spilte, 
I  tell  yoh.  Jerry,  he's  a  teamin'  an'  he  can't 
watch  'em,  an'  dey  maw  she's  a  wuckin'  fo'  one 
er  dem  Congressers,  an'  dem  twins  is  des  plum 
run  wile." 

"  Perhaps  you  expect  too  much  of  the  morals 
of  Washington,"  suggested  Beverly,  winking  at 
Roy  to  give  the  old  woman  full  sway. 

"  Mo'ls  !  mo'ls !  Why,  lawsy,  honey,  yoh 
don'  know  what  yoh  talkin'  'bout  no  mo'  dan 
Mos'  Roy  do.  Dey  ain't  no  mo'ls  in  Washin'- 
ton — white  ner  black.  Mebby  dem  dar  folks 
had  some  'fo  dey  cum  dar ;  but  dey  sholy  did 
leave  de  whole  lot  back  in  de  place  whah  dey 
cum  fum !  Dey  sholy  did  dat.  Mo'ls !  In 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  143 

Washin'ton?  Dey  ain't  none  darJ"  She 
shook  her  finger  at  Beverly. 

Roy  saw  his  opportunity  as  she  started  for  the 
door  to  shut  off  further  questions.  "  Oh  !  go 
away,  Aunt  Judy,  you  don't  know  what  morals 
are,"  he  said,  "that's  all.  In  Washington  they 
are  government  property  and  they  keep  'em  in 
tin  cans.  Of  course  you  didn't  see  any." 

"  Dey  dun  los'  do  opener  t'  dat  can,  too,"  she 
remarked,  hobbling  up  the  steps.  Many  and 
blood-curdling  had  been  her  stories  of  life  at 
the  capital.  In  her  opinion,  the  seat  of  govern 
ment  had  no  redeeming  qualities.  "  Stay  dar  ? 
Why,  dis  chile  wouldn't  stay  dar  fo'  no  'mount 
o'  money,  ner  fer  nobody.  She's  got  too  much 
self-'spect  fer  dat,  de  good  Lawd  he  do  know. 
Stay  dar  ?  No,  sah  ! " 

"  Well,  the  others  are  getting  along  all  right, 
I'll  bet  you,"  piped  up  Howard,  as  her  foot 
struck  the  top  step.  She  turned. 

"  I  ain't  gwine  ter  tell  yoh  no  mo'  to-night. 
I'se  gwine  ter  bed ;  but  wat  I  knows  is  des  dis  : 
De  way  dey  gets  'long,  dey  goes  t'  dat  dar  Mr. 
Lawyer  an'  gits  dat  money  Mos*  Grif  done  lef. 
De  f  us'  mont'  dey  sholy  dus  lib  high ;  de  nex' 


144  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

mont'  dey  sorter  scrabbles  erlong,  an'  de  las' 
mont'  dey  sholy  is  hawd  times.  Dey  ain't  no 
use  talking,  dey  sholy  is  dat !  Now  I'm  des' 
gwine  in  'n  take  a  good  big  jorum  of  pepsissiway 
for  my  stummick,  'u  git  erlong  ter  my  bed,  fore 
de  rusters  'gin  ter  crow  fer  mawnin'."  And  she 
disappeared  in  the  darkness,  shaking  her  head 
and  reiterating  the  refrain,  as  to  the  badness  of 
those  twins. 

The  story  of  Aunt  Judy's  travels,  in  so 
far  as  she  vouchsafed  to  tell  them  and  not 
to  resort  to  fiction  or  silence  —  her  advent 
ures  by  land  and  water,  by  wagon  and 
rail,  in  search  of  "  Mos'  Grif,"  spread  far  and 
wide.  The  old  woman  could  not  set  her 
foot  outside  of  the  door  without  a  following  of 
boys  and  girls,  and,  as  a  faithful  historian,  it 
would  little  avail  me  to  omit,  also,  of  men  and 
of  women,  who  hooted,  stared  at  and  otherwise 
indicated  that  she  was  less  than  human  and 
more  than  curious.  She  was  the  pariah  of  the 
village,  albeit  LeRoy's  fists  had  done  their  per 
fect  work  in  that  she  was  no  more  stoned.  But 
she  was  content — so,  at  least,  she  asserted — and 
not  even  the  longing  for  Jerry  and  Ellen  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  145 

those  badly-spoiled  twins  (of  whom  she  never 
tired  talking)  served  to  convince  her  that  there 
could  be,  on  all  this  green  earth,  any  home  for 
her  except,  alone,  the  one  that  sheltered  "  Mos' 
Grif  an'  Mis'  Kath'rine  an'  dat  blessed  baby," 
now  grown  too  large  to  be  a  baby  longer  except 
alone  to  this  loving  old  aoul,  to  whom,  forever, 
she  was  "  my  baby." 
10 


146  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  X. 

"  To  thine  own  self  be  true."     Shakespeare. 

THERE  had  been  a  bright  side  for  Griffith 
in  all  this  change,  too.  New  and  warm  friends 
had  been  made.  He  had  watched  with  a  feel 
ing  of  joy  the  enervating  influence  of  slave 
ownership  drop  from  Beverly's  young  shoulders 
— and  upon  the  other  boys  he  felt  that  it  had 
never  cast  its  blight  with  a  power  that  would 
outlast  early  youth.  It  filled  him  with  pleasure 
to  find  his  sons  surrounded  in  the  academy  and 
college  with  the  mental  atmosphere  and  influ 
ence  of  freedom,  only.  He  encouraged  them  to 
join  the  debating  societies  and  Greek  letter 
orders  which  admitted  discussion  of  such  topics. 
Beverly  was  now  in  his  Sophomore  year  and  was 
an  ardent  student  of  free-soil  doctrines.  He 
read  and  absorbed  like  a  fresh  young  sponge  the 
political  literature  of  the  time.  He  was  always 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  147 

ready  and  eager  to  enter  the  debates  of  his  class 
upon  the  ever  pregnant  and  always  recurring 
slavery  extension  and  compromise  bills.  The 
young  fellows  had  numerous  hot  arguments  over 
the  position  of  the  different  statesmen  of  the 
time,  and  Stephen  A.  Douglas  furnished  Bev 
erly  with  many  a  hard  hour's  thinking.  Mr. 
Davenport  adhered  to  Douglas ;  but  Beverly 
inclined  to  persistently  oppose  his  point  of 
view.  When,  at  last,  Douglas  had  taken  the 
side  of  repeal  in  that  famous  measure — the 
Missouri  Compromise  Bill,  which  had  been  at 
once  the  hope  and  the  despair  of  all  the  great 
northwest, — Beverly  no  longer  hesitated.  He 
and  his  father  took  different  sides,  finally  and 
forever,  in  their  political  opinions.  At  com 
mencement  time,  year  after  year,  the  governor 
of  the  State  was  made  the  feature  of  the  college 
exercises,  and  he  had  several  times  been  the 
guest  of  Mr.  Davenport.  This  had  served  to 
draw  to  the  house  many  politicians  whose  talks 
had  given  both  stimulus  and  material  to 
Beverly's  already  ardent  political  nature,  which 
was  so  fast  leading  him  outside  the  bounds 
reached  by  his  father.  The  scope  and  class  of 


148  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

his  reading  often  troubled  his  mother  sorely. 
One  day  she  had  gone  to  Griffith  in  dismay. 
It  was  so  seldom  that  she  felt  obliged  to  crit 
icise  this  eldest  son  of  hers,  upon  whom  she 
looked  with  a  pride  almost  beyond  words  to 
express,  that  Griffith  was  astonished. 

"  I  wish,  Griffith,  that  you  would  tell  Beverly 
not  to  read  this  book.  It  is  the  second  time  I 
have  told  him  and  he  is  determined.  I  burned 
the  first  copy  and  he  has  bought  another.  He 
says  he  will  buy  fifty  if  I  burn  them  before  he 
has  read  it  all.  He  is  that  determined  to  read 
it.  I  hated  to  tell  you,  but " 

Griffith  held  out  his  hand  for  the  obnoxious 
book.  Then  he  exclaimed  in  surprise :  "  The 
'  Age  of  Reason  '  !  Paine's  book  !  Where  did  he 
happen  to  get  that  ?  "  He  looked  over  the  title 
page. 

"  I  see,  I  see  !  '  Rights  of  Man  ' — he  quoted 
from  that  in  his  last  essay  at  college.  It  was 
good,  too — excellent.  I've  never  read  either 
one,  but — oh,  tut,  tut,  mother,  why  not  let  him 
read  it  ?  I  wouldn't  worry  over  it.  Beverly  is 
all  right.  He  has  got  a  better  mind  than  you 
have — a  far  better  one  than  I  have — why  not 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  149 

let  him  use  it  ?  Let  him  read  anything  he 
wants  to.  We  can't  judge  for  him.  He'll  be 
all  right  anyhow.  You  know  that.  He  and  I 
differ  in  politics  now.  He  is  going  the  radical 
road  and  I'm  staying  by  the  old  line  whigs  ;  but — 
oh,  tut,  tut,  Katherine !  let's  not  hamper  the 
boy's  mind  with  our  notions  to  the  extent  of 
forcing  them  on  him.  It  won't  do  a  bit  of  good 
if  we  try  it  either.  That's  not  the  kind  of  a 
mind  Beverly  has  got — and  suppose  it  was,  what 
right  have  we  to  warp  and  limit  its  action?" 
He  was  turning  over  the  leaves.  "  I've  never 
read  this  myself."  Then  looking  up  suddenly  ' 
"  Have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  of  course  not !  But  my  father  forbade 
our  boys  reading  it.  He  said  it  was  a  fearful 
book — infidel "  She  broke  off,  but  stam 
mered  something  about  Beverly's  salvation. 
Griffith  drew  her  down  on  his  knee. 

"  Madam  Kath'rine,"  he  said,  quizzically,  "  if 
I  had  followed  my  father's  conscience  instead  of 
my  own,  I  never  would  have  " — he  was  going 
to  say  seen  her,  but  he  recognized  in  time  that 
that  might  hurt  her  —  "I  never  would  have 
done  a  good  many  things  that  have  seemed 


150  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

right  to  me — the  only  right  things  for  my  soul. 
So  long  as  Beverly  is  open  and  frank  and  true 
to  himself — and  he  has  always  been  that — I 
mean  to  let  him  alone.  I  am  sure  that  I  found 
a  good  deal  better  way  for  myself  than  my 
father  had  marked  out  for  me.  Perhaps  Bev 
erly  will.  Suppose  we  trust  him.  He  has  been 
such  a  good  son  —  such  a  frank  fellow;  don't 
let  us  make  a  pretender  of  him.  Let  him  read 
what  he  does  openly.  You  may  be  very  sure  if 
it  looks  wrong  to  him  he  won't  want  to  be  open 
with  it.  I  don't  want  to  hurt  Beverly  as  my 
father,  dear  soul,  hurt  me — intending  it  for  my 
own  good,  of  course  ;  but — but — can't  you  trust 
Beverly,  Katherine  ?  I  can.  And  maybe,  after 
all,  people  have  not  understood  this  book. 
Leave  it  here.  I  believe  I'll  read  it  myself." 

Katherine  was  astonished,  but  the  little  talk 
rested  and  helped  her.  That  night  the  book 
was  on  Beverly's  table  again  and  nothing  was 
said  of  it.  Beverly  had  joined  his  father's 
church  when  he  was  a  little  fellow,  but  since 
he  entered  college  he  had  seemed  to  take  slight 
interest  in  it.  He  was  always  present  at  family 
prayers,  but  said  nothing  about  his  religious 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  151 

views  of  late.  A  year  ago  he  had  been  repri 
manded,  in  company  with  others,  by  the  local 
preacher  for  attending  a  social  dance.  That 
night  he  said  to  Roy  :  "  The  first  time  a  danc 
ing  teacher  comes  to  this  town  I  am  going  to 
take  lessons.  Look  at  those  Louisville  boys  in 
my  class  and  in  yours,  too.  They  are  twice  as 
easy  in  their  manners  as  any  of  the  rest  of  us.  It 
is  their  dancing  that  did  it.  They  told  me  so." 

"  Mr.  Brooks  will  turn  you.  out  of  the  church 
if  you  do,"  said  Roy. 

"Father  wouldn't,"  replied  Beverly,  whis 
tling — "  and  father  is  good  enough  for  me." 

But,  since  there  had  been  no  opportunity  to 
fulfill  the  threat,  the  little  matter  of  the  social 
dance  had  blown  over,  and  Beverly  was  still, 
nominally,  a  member  of  the  Methodist  Church. 

The  days  passed.  The  political  crash  was 
upon  the  country.  Men  met  only  to  talk  of 
free-soil  and  slave  extension,  of  union  and 
disunion,  of  repeal,  and  even,  in  some  quarters, 
of  abolition.  Young  men's  blood  boiled.  In 
Legislature  and  Congress  feeling  ran  to  blows. 
The  air  was  thick  and  heavy  with  threats  of — 
no  one  knew  what.  Old  friendships  were 


152  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

broken  and  new  ones  strained  into  real  enmity. 
Brothers  took  different  sides.  Fathers  and 
sons  became  bitter.  Neighbor  looked  with  sus 
picion  upon  neighbor.  College  fraternities 
lapsed  into  political  clubs.  It  was  now  Bev 
erly's  last  year.  His  favorite  professor  died. 
Griffith  noticed  that  the  boy  was  restless  and 
abstracted.  One  day  he  came  to  his  father. 

"  Father,"  he  said,  abruptly,  "  I  don't  feel  as 
if  I  ought  to  waste  any  more  time  at  college. 
There  is  a  tremendous  upheaval  just  ahead  of 
us.  Could  you — would  you  just  as  soon  I 
should? — I've  got  an  offer  with  two  of  the 
other  fellows,  and  I " 

Mr.  Davenport  recognized  in  the  boy's  un 
usual  hesitancy  of  speech  an  unaccustomed 
quality  of  unrest  and  uncertainty.  He  looked 
over  his  gold-bowed  glasses. 

"Why,  what  is  it,  son?  Out  with  it,"  he 
said,  smiling. 

"  Well,  it's  like  this :  You  remember  Shap- 
leigh,  of  the  class  last  year  ?  Well,  you  know 
his  father  owns  that  little  free-soil  paper  out  in 
Missouri  that  I  get  every  once  in  a  while.  It's 
democratic,  you  know,  but  free-soil." 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  153 

Griffith  nodded.  "  Very  good  little  paper, 
too.  Don't  fully  agree  with  those  last  edito 
rials — too  fiery — but  a  very  decent  little  sheet." 

Beverly  was  evidently  pleased. 

"Well,  the  old  gentleman  is  tired  of  the 
fight,  and  Shap  wrote  me  that  if  Donaldson  and 
I  will  each  put  in  f>  1,500,  his  father  will  turn  the 
paper  over  to  the  three  of  us.  Shap  knows  how 
to  run  the  business  end  of  the  concern.  That's 
what  he  has  done  since  he  was  graduated. 
Shap  wants  me  for  political  editor,  mostly. 
He's  a  red-hot  free-soiler,  and  he  knows  I  am. 
I  sent  him  my  last  two  speeches  and  he  used 
'em  in  the  paper.  He  says  they  took  like  wild 
fire  ;  his  constituents  liked  'em  first-class.  You 
know,  I've  always  thought  I'd  like  to  be  a 
newspaper  man.  Think  so  more  than  ever 
now.  Times  are  so  hot,  and  there  is  such  a  lot 
to  be  said.  They  need  new  blood  to  the  front, 
and " 

Griffith  was  laughing  gently  and  looking 
quizzically,  with  lips  pursed  up,  at  this  ambi 
tious  son  of  his ;  but  the  boy  went  on  : 

"  The  fact  is,  father,  I've  worried  over  it  all 
this  term.  I  hated  to  ask  you  if  you  could  let 


154  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

me  have  the  money.  It  is  such  a  splendid 
chance — one  of  a  lifetime,  I  think.  I  do  wish 
you'd  let  me." 

At  last  he  had  fallen  into  his  boyish  form  of 
speech,  and  Griffith  laughed  aloud. 

"  Let  you  ?  Let  you  be  an  editor  of  a  fiery 
free-soil  paper  out  in  Missouri,  hey  ?  The  fel 
low  that  edits  a  paper  out  there  just  now  can't 
be  made  out  of  very  meek  stuff,  Bev.  It  won't 
be  a  nest  of  roses  for  any  three  young  birds  that 
try  it,  I  reckon.  D'yeh  see  that  account  in  the 
Gazette,  yesterday,  of  the  mob  out  there  near 
Kansas  City  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did ;  and  that's  the  very  thing  that 
decided  me  to  ask  you  to-day.  Of  course, 
you'd  really  own  the  stock.  It  would  only  be 
in  my  name  till  I  could  pay  you  for  it,  and " 

"  Beverly,"  said  his  father,  gravely,  "  if 
you've  made  up  your  mind  fully  to  this  thing, 
and  are  sure  you  know  what  you  want  and  can 
do,  I  reckon  you  don't  need  to  worry  over  the 
money  for  the  stock.  But  are  you  sure  you 
want  to  leave  college  before  you  finish  ?  Isn't 
it  a  little  premature  ?  " 

He   did   not  hear   his  son's  reply.     It  came 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  155 

suddenly  to  his  mind  that  this  boy  of  his  was 
almost  exactly  the  age  that  he  had  been  when 
he  had  tried  to  argue  his  own  case  with  the  old 
Major.  It  rushed  into  his  thoughts  how  hard 
it  had  been  to  approach  the  topic  nearest  his 
heart,  and  how  cruelly  it  had  all  ended.  He 
realized,  as  he  often  did  these  days,  how  boyish 
and  immature  he  must  have  seemed  to  his 
father,  and  yet  how  tragically  old  he  had  felt 
to  himself.  He  wondered  if  Beverly  felt  that 
way  now.  He  began  to  realize  that  the  boy 
was  still  talking,  arguing  and  planning,  al 
though  he  had  not  heard. 

"Bev,"  he  said,  gently,  using  the  abbrevia 
tion  instinctively  to  make  the  boy  feel  the  ten 
derness  of  his  intent — "  Bev,  I  don't  intend  to 
argue  this  thing  with  you  at  all." 

Beverly  had  misunderstood  his  father's  long 
silence  and  abstraction.  The  remark  confirmed 
his  misconception.  He  arose,  disappointed,  and 
started  for  the  door.  Griffith  reached  out, 
caught  him  by  the  sleeve,  and  pulled  him  into  a 
chair  beside  his  own. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something,  Bev.  When 
I  was  about  your  age — maybe  a  little  younger — 


156  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

I  made  a  request  of  my  father  that  it  had  cost 
me  a  sore  trial  to  make  up  my  mind  to  ask. 
He — well,  he  didn't  take  it  kindly,  and — and — 
and  I  left  home  in  a  huff ;  not  exactly  a  huff, 
either;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  we  succeeded  in 
hurting  each  other  sorely.  And  there  wasn't 
the  least  need  of  it.  It  took  us  both  a  long 
time  to  get  over  the  hurt  of  it.  I  sometimes 
doubt  if  we  ever  did  get  really  all  over  it.  I 
tell  you,  Beverly,  boy,  it  was  a  sad,  sad  blunder 
all  around.  It  darkened  and  dampened  my 
spirits  for  many  a  day,  and  I  don't  doubt  it  did 
his." 

Griffith  was  playing  idly  with  a  paper-knife 
on  the  table  beside  him,  and  there  came  a  pause 
and  a  far-off  look  in  his  eyes. 

"  Oh,  father,  don't  fancy  I  feel  that  way — I — 

don't — I  wouldn't  think "  began  Beverly, 

eagerly,  with  a  suspicious  quaver  in  his  voice. 
To  hide  it,  he  arose  suddenly. 

"  Sit  down,  son,"  said  Griffith,  smiling  at  the 
boy  and  taking  the  hand  that  rested  on  the 
table.  It  was  cold.  He  dropped  the  paper- 
knife  and  laid  his  other  hand  over  his  son's. 
"  Beverly,  you  didn't  understand  me,  I  reckon  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  157 

• — he  threw  one  arm  about  the  boy's  shoulders — 
"  I  reckon  you  didn't  understand  me.  I  meant 
to  say  this  :  I  still  think  my  father  was  wrong. 
Now,  if  I  can  help  it,  I  don't  want  the'  time  to 
ever  come,  that  when  you  recall  your  first  inde 
pendent  effort  with  me,  you  will  think  that 
of  me.  I've  always  intended  to  try  to  remem 
ber,  when  that  time  came,  to  put  myself  in 
your  place,  and  recall  my  own  early  struggles — 
be  nineteen  again  myself.  We  will  all  hate  to 
have  you  go  so  far  away.  That  will  be  the 
hardest  part  for  mother  and  for  all  of  us ;  but 
if  you  have  thought  it  all  over  seriously " 

"  I  have,  indeed,  father  —  for  months  and 
months.  It " 

"  Why,  all  there  is  to  do  is  for  me  to  look 
into  the  matter  and  get  that  stock  for  you,  and 
see  how  we  can  make  the  change  as  easy  as  pos 
sible — as " 

The  boy  was  on  his  feet.  He  was  struggling 
to  hide  his  emotion.  Griffith,  still  holding  his 
hand,  arose.  He  drew  the  boy  toward  him. 
Suddenly  Beverly  understood  his  father's  wish. 
He  threw  both  arms  about  his  neck  and  kissed 
him  as  he  had  not  done  since  he  was  a  little  fel- 


158  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

low.  Mr.  Davenport  held  the  boy  close  to  his 
breast.  Beverly  was  the  taller  of  the  two,  but 
the  father's  form  had  filled  out  into  portly  pro 
portions  during  these  past  years  and  Beverly's 
was  very  slight. 

"  There,  there,  there  !  "  exclaimed  Griffith, 
presently,  blowing  a  blast  upon  his  handkerchief. 
"  What  are  we  two  precious  fools  crying  over  ? 
Wasting  time  !  Wasting  time  !  Better  go  tell 
your  mother  all  about  it  and  let  her  get  about 
fixing  you  up  to  go.  Editor  Davenport ! "  he 
exclaimed,  holding  the  boy  at  arm's  length. 
"  Well,  well,  well !  what  next  ?  Tut,  tut,  tut, 
tut !  I  expect  Roy  will  be  wanting  to  set  up  a 
law-office — or  a  boxing  school — in  a  day  or  two." 
Roy's  exploit  with  his  fists  in  behalf  of  Aunt 
Judy  had  always  been  a  family  joke.  "But, 
look  here,  Beverly,  I  want  you  to  promise  me 
you  will  be  mighty  careful  to  keep  out  of 
trouble  out  there.  It's  a  hot  State  just  now. 
The  times  are  scorching,  and — God  only  knows 
what's  in  store  for  the  country.  Keep  out  of 
trouble  and  hasty  words,  son.  Bless  me,  but  I'm 
glad  it's  not  Roy !  He'd  be  in  trouble  before  he 
got  his  first  stick  set  up.  They  call  it  a  stick, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  159 

don't  they  ?  I'll  have  to  coach  up  on  journalis 
tic  language  if  I'm  to  have  an  editor  for  a  son. 
The  proof  of  the  editorials  will  be  in  the  read 
ing  thereof,"  he  added,  smiling  at  the  play  upon 
the  old  saying.  "  But  I  stipulate  right  now 
that  you  send  me  every  one  you  write  marked 
in  red,  so  I  won't  have  to  wade  through  all  the 
other  stuff  to  find  yours.  If  they're  as  good  as 
that  last  essay  of  yours  at  the  Delta,  I'll  be 
proud  of  you,  my  boy.  Only — only  don't  be 
too  radical !  Young  blood  boils  too  easy. 
Mine  did.  Go  slow  on  this  question,  Bev.  It's 
bigger  than  you  think  it  is.  In  one  form  or 
another  it  has  burdened  my  whole  life,  and  I've 
never  been  able  to  solve  it  yet — for  others,  for 
others.  I  solved  it  for  myself — as  Judy's  pres 
ence  here  proves,"  he  added,  laughing.  Judy's 
presence  and  her  triumph  over  the  law  was  a 
family  jest,  and  Roy's  fight  on  her  behalf  not 
wholly  a  memory  of  regret. 

"  He  fit  fur  the  ould  naiger,"  remarked  the 
envious  Rosanna,  from  time  to  trme,  "  but  it 
would  be  the  rear  of  me  loif,  shure,  before  he'd 
do  the  same,  er  even  so  much  as  jaw  back,  fer 
the  loikes  o'  me !  " 


160  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XL 

"  I'll  stand  as  if  a  man  were  author  of  himself, 
And  knew  no  other  kin." 

Shakespeare. 

SINCE  Beverly  was  a  Virginian,  and  since  it 
was  well  known  that  at  least  one  of  the  new 
owners  of  the  paper  was  from  Massachusetts,  it 
was  deemed  wise  to  have  Beverly  sign  all  of 
his  editorials  where  they  touched — as  they 
usually  did — upon  the  ever-present,  and  ever- 
exciting  topic  of  slave  extension.  The  young 
fellows  were  advised  by  the  original  owner 
that  the  border  people  were  in  no  mood  to 
accept  arguments  opposed  to  the  opinions  of  a 
large  proportion  of  the  property  owners,  if  they 
supposed  these  arguments  came  from  persons  in 
any  way  hostile  to  their  interests — as  all  the 
New  England  people  were  supposed  to  be. 
But,  he  reasoned,  if  these  arguments  came 
from  the  pen  of  one  who  had  known  the  iiisti- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  161 

tution  of  slavery  at  its  best  and  had  loved  the 
old  order  of  things  where  it  was  an  established 
institution  and  where  its  roots  were,  as  even 
Beverly  believed,  in  normal  earth  and  not  to 
be  disturbed — if  from  his  pen  came  the  protest 
against  its  farther  extension — it  was  believed 
the  natives  would  accept  it  in  kindness  whether 
they  agreed  with  him  or  not.  Beverly  still 
adhered  to  the  old  order  of  things  for  the  old 
states.  He,  like  his  father,  had  seen  how  hard 
it  was  to  be  rid  of  even  a  small  portion  of  its 
power  and  its  responsibility. 

At  the  end  of  the  second  year  of  his  new 
editorial  work  Beverly  had  grown  to  feel  him 
self  quite  at  home  with  his  duties.  He  had 
made  both  friends  and  enemies.  The  little 
office  had  become  the  town's  center  of  debate  and 
of  political  development.  The  clash  of  interests 
had  come  nearer  and  nearer.  The  country  was 
on  the  eve  of  an  election  excitement  such  as  had 
never  before  been  known.  Four  parties  were  in 
the  field.  The  election  of  either  of  the  two 
radical  candidates  meant  civil  war  beyond  hope 
of  evasion.  Many  still  fondly  hoped  that 
peace  was  yet  possible  if  but  the  compromise 


162  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

candidates  were  elected.  Mr.  Davenport  held 
tenaciously  to  that  view.  Beverly  came  out 
openly  against  it.  If  it  were  staved  off  by  com 
promise,  he  insisted  that  it  was  only  a  matter 
of  time  when  the  inevitable  would  come.  He 
argued  that  it  would  be  best  to  meet  and  settle 
the  issue  once  and  for  all. 

"  I  shall  cast  my  first  presidential  ballot  for 
that  Illinois  lawyer  who  flayed  Douglas,"  he 
wrote  to  his  father.  "  War  is  simply  inevitable 
now,  and  he  is  a  fearless  and  clear-headed 
leader.  When  the  extension  party  sees  that 
he  means  business,  and  has  the  whole  North  and 
West  behind,  him  the  struggle  will  the  sooner 
be  over."  But  Griffith  still  hoped  for  peace 
and  a  compromise,  and  declared  his  intention  to 
vote  for  Bell  and  Everett.  "  You  are  simply 
throwing  your  vote  away,"  wrote  Beverly, 
insistently,  "  and  after  all  you  have  done  and 
suffered  because  of  this  thing  I  am  sorry  to  see 
you  do  it,  father.  I'd  rather  see  you  help  other 
people  to  keep  out  of  the  fire  that  scorched  you 
than  to  silently  allow  it  to  be  lighted  in  the  states 
that  are  now  free — in  the  new  territorial  country 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  163 

so  soon  to  be  states.  But  what  business  have 
I  to  advise  you?  I'm  in  a  position  to  see  it 
better  than  you  are,  is  my  only  excuse.  I  am 
going  to  vote  for  Lincoln  and  work  for  him  with 
all  my  strength.  Things  are  about  as  hot  as  they 
can  be  out  here,  I  can  tell  you.  I  mail  my  last 
editorial  on  the  subject  to-day.  A  good  many 
people  here  don't  half  like  it,  and  I've  had  to 
buck  up  to  some  pretty  ugly  talk  first  and  last ; 
but — we  have  to  follow  our  consciences,  don't 
we  ?  That's  mine,  whether  they  like  it  or  not. 
Lots  of  love  to  mother  and  the  boys  and  Mar 
garet — and  to  Judy,  too.  And  af  you  plaise, 
me  reshpects  t'  Rosanna,  shure  I 

"  P.  S. — I  forgot  to  say  I'll  have  to  postpone 
that  visit  home  for  a  little  while  yet,  until 
things  settle  down  a  bit.  We  have  all  we  can 
possibly  manage  at  the  office  now.  Shap  runs 
the  business  end  of  things  very  well,  does  the 
hiring  and  adv.  work  and  all  that.  Donaldson 
takes  all  the  locals  and  reporting,  and  I've  got 
pretty  much  the  whole  of  the  editing  to  do.  I 
sign  only  the  political  ones,  but  I  do  the  other 
stuff  on  that  page  and  the  literary  part  too.  Of 
course  both  of  them  do  some  of  these  things 


164  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

once  in  a  while — and  if  they  want  to ;  but  I  am 
depended  on  for  it  ;  so  as  times  are,  I've  got  to 
be  here  to  meet  all  these  new  questions.  We 
talk  'em  over  and  I  write  'em  up.  It  keeps  me 
tied,  but  I  like  it ;  I  reckon  I  was  born  for  the 
business.  "We  are  really  making  great  strides 
for  youngsters.  The  subscriptions  have  very 
nearly  doubled  in  the  two  years.  Did  you 
read  the  issue  of  the  24th  with  my  lurid  remarks 
on  '  Breakers  Ahead  ?  '  I  believe  every  word 
of  it.  I  don't  believe  we  are  going  to  pull 
through  without  a  touch  of  gunpowder.  I  don't 
intend  to  fight  myself,  if  I  can  help  it — but  I 
shall  shoot  with  ink  just  as  long  and  as  strong  as 
I  can.  I  believe  my  postscript  is  a  good  deal 
longer  than  my  letter ;  but  sometimes  our  after 
thoughts  have  more  in  'em  than  the  originals,  so 
why  not  add  'em  ?  I  forgot,  too,  in  my  gassing 
about  myself,  to  say  how  glad  I  am  that  Roy  is 
doing  so  well  at  college  now.  I  shall  surely  try 
to  get  home  to  his  graduation  in  June  next,  for  I 
hope  after  Lincoln  is  once  in  the  White  House 
(and  you  see  I  assume  he  is  going  to  get  there), 
that  it  won't  take  long  to  settle  matters  down. 
I  think  by  next  June  I  can  surely  come  home 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  165 

for  a  good  visit.  I  doubt,  though,  if  we  do 
have  a  place  for  Roy  to  take  even  then.  All 
the  places  we  have  to  give  are  rather — well, 
they  are  not  in  his  line  and  the  pay  is  small. 
The  salary  list  looks  pretty  big  to  us  on  pay 
day,  but  I  reckon  it  looks  slim  enough  to  each 
one  of  the  men  who  gets  his  little  envelope. 
Now,  I  believe  that  is  really  all  I  overlooked 
replying  to  in  your  last ;  only,  once  more,  father, 
do  vote  for  Lincoln  and  don't  throw  yourself  away 
on  that  tinkling  little  Bell.  His  chances  are 
hopeless ;  and  if  they  were  not,  then  the  country's 
chances  would  be.  Might  as  well  just  put 
little  Margaret  at  the  helm  of  a  ship.  No 
matter  how  hard  she'd  pull,  or  how  sweetly 
she'd  smile  or  how  hard  she'd  coax,  the  ship 
would  miss  the  firm  grip  needed  to  steer  clear 
of  the  breakers.  There  are  breakers  ahead! 
Lincoln  is  our  only  hope  for  an  undivided 
country  and  the  limitation,  once  and  for  all,  of 
the  extension  of  slavery—sure,  sure.  Again, 

love  to  all, 

"  BEVEELY. 

"N.  B. — I  don't  often  read  my  letters  over,  but 
if  I  hadn't  read  this  one  I  shouldn't  be  so  ceir 


166  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

tain  as  I  am  now  that  if  I  were  my  own  father 
and  should  receive  this  cock-sure  piece  of  advice 
from  my  eldest  hopeful,  I'd — well,  I'd  tan  him 
well,  verbally.  But  since  I  have  the  good  luck 
to  be  the  eldest  of  the  very  best  and  most  con 
siderate  father  in  this  wide  world,  I  don't  expect 
anything  of  the  kind  to  happen  to  me  ;  but  if  it 
does,  I'll  swallow  it  like  a  little  man — and  take 
my  revenge  (in  a  scorching  editorial)  on  some 
other  fellow's  father  who  votes  for  Bell. 

"  Meekly, 

"  B." 

Mr.  Davenport — as  was  his  habit — read  the 
letter  aloud  to  the  family,  but  he  smiled  anx 
iously  at  Roy's  merry  comments. 

"  Beverly  is  in  a  bad  place  to  be  reckless  with 
his  English,  just  now.  That  editorial  on 
Breakers  Ahead  seemed  to  me  to  go  a  good  deal 
too  far.  I'm  glad  he  says  he  will  not  fight  if 
there  should  be  a  war — which  God  forbid." 

"  I  would,  then  !  "  remarked  Roy.  "  I'd  get 
up  a  company  right  here  in  college.  Lots  of 
the  boys  declare  they'd  go." 

Mr.  Davenport  looked  at  his  son  over  his  gold- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  167 

bowed  glasses.  There  was  a  suspicious  twinkle 
in  his  eyes  and  a  twitching  of  the  lips.  There 
was  a  long  pause  before  he  spoke.  This  son  of 
his  had  always  seemed  to  Griffith  younger  than 
he  was. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Roy  ? "  he  asked  iij  a 
spirit  of  fun.  "  You'd  make  a  tremendous  sol 
dier,  now,  wouldn't  you  ? — just  out  of  short 
clothes?" 

"  I'm  older  than  Bev.  was  when  he  left  college. 
I'm  twenty.  Young  men  make  the  best  soldiers 
anyhow.  I  heard  Governor  Morton  tell  you 
that  the  last  time  he  was  here,  and  besides " 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut,  boy,  you  attend  to  your  les 
sons  !  Twenty !  Is  that  so,  Katherine  ?  Is 
Roy  twenty  ?  " 

Griffith  took  his  glasses  in  his  hand  and  held 
them  as  if  he  were  trying  to  magnify  the  boy  in 
order  to  see  him,  and  with  his  other  hand 
tweaked  his  upper  lip  as  if  searching  for  a 
mustache.  Roy  accepted  the  joke  and  stretched 
himself  up  to  his  tallest,  and  from  his  inch  of 
advantage  over  his  father  he  put  down  a  patron 
izing  hand  on  Griffith's  head  and  said,  "  Bless 
you,  my  children,  bless  you."  Griffith  changed 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


the  direction  of  his  glasses  and  searched  the 
ceiling  with  that  gratified  smile  fathers  have 
when  they  realize  that  a  son  really  exceeds  them 
in  anything.  Katherine  was  laughing  at  the  by 
play  of  the  two.  Suddenly  Griffith  turned  to 
his  youngest  son  :  "  Howard,  how  old  are  you  ? 
I  suppose  you  will  vote  this  time,  and  go  to  war 
and  do  no  end  of  great  and  rash  things." 

"  No,  I'll  stay  at  home  and  nurse  the  baby. 
That's  the  kind  of  a  fellow  I  am,"  flung  back 
this  petulant  one,  and  the  door  banged  behind 
him. 

"  Don't  tease  Ward,"  said  Katherine.  "  His 
temper  seems  to  grow  faster  than  he  does  just 
these  last  two  years,  and " 

"  Highty-tighty !  He'd  better  take  a  reef  in 
it.  If  I'd  behaved  that  way  with  my  father  he 
would  have  prescribed  a  little  hickory  oil.  How 
old  is  Howard  ?  Fourteen  ?  Growing  too  fast 
by  half — but  his  temper  does  seem  to  keep  up 
with  the  rest  of  him,  I  must  say.  Go  and  hitch 
up  the  century  plant,  Roy.  I  want  to  drive 
out  to  the  farm.  Want  to  go  'long  ?  Don't. 
Well,  do  you,  Kath'rine  ?  No  ?  Well,  then  I 
guess  I'll  have  to  take  Margaret.  She  won't  go 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  169 

back  on  me  like  that.  It'll  do  her  good  and  she 
can  play  with  those  two  peewees  of  Miller's, 
while  he  and  I  look  over  the  stock  and  drive 
about  the  place  a  little.  Fan's  colt  was  lame  the 
last  time  I  was  out.  I  don't  believe  the  straw 
berry  patch  is  going  to  do  well  this  year,  either. 
Did  I  tell  you  what  a  fine  fat  calf  the  brindle's 
is  ?  You'd  laugh  to  see  it.  It  winks  at  you 
exactly  as  if  it  understood  a  joke." 

The  old  phaeton — otherwise  the  "  century 
plant  " — dashed  up  to  the  door.  The  combina 
tion  was  especially  incongruous.  Hitched  to  it 
was  a  great,  gray,  fiery  Arabian  stallion.  The 
one-time  circuit  rider  had  not  lost  his  love  for  a 
good  horse,  and  his  little  stock  farm  on  the  out 
skirts  of  the  town  was  the  joy  of  his  life.  He 
sadly  missed  the  beautiful  valley  of  his  youth, 
but  at  least  these  fields  were  his.  No  blue 
mountains  loomed  up  in  the  distance,  but  the 
beech  and  maple  trees  were  luxuriant.  Mount 
ain  stream  and  narrow  pass  there  were  not,  but 
a  pebbly  brook,  in  which  were  minnows,  ran 
through  the  strip  of  woods,  and  Griffith  still 
enjoyed  the  comradeship  of  bird  and  beast  and 
fish.  He  had  named  the  stallion  Selim,  after 


170  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  love  of  his  youth,  and  no  one  dared  drive 
him  but  himself.  He  took  up  the  lines  and 
called  back  to  Roy  as  Selim  dashed  off,  "  I'll 
leave  Selim  and  bring  Fannie  in,  so  your  mother 
and  you  can  drive  to-morrow.  'Bye,  Howard! 
Be  a  good  boy !  "  he  called,  as  he  caught  a 
glimpse  of  the  boy  at  the  corner  of  the  house. 
"  So'll  the  devil  be  a  good  boy !  Just  wait 
till  that  war  comes  !  They'll  see  !  "  he  growled, 
as  the  "  century  plant "  disappeared.  There 
floated  back  on  the  air,  "  Joy  to  the  world,  te, 
te,  turn,  turn.  Yea,  yea,  there,  Selim !  Whoa ! 
Yea  !  yea  !  Let  earth  receive  her  King  !  Te,  te, 
turn."  The  "  century  plant "  and  Selim  disap 
peared  around  the  corner,  and  the  fife  and  drum 
corps  which  had  startled  the  horse,  drowned  all 
other  sounds,  and  for  Howard,  all  other  thoughts. 
He  did  not  stop  to  reach  the  gate.  He  vaulted 
over  the  fence  and  joined  the  procession  and  the 
refrain  of  the  school-boys  who  gave  words  to  the 
music — "  on  a  rail !  Arid  we'll  ride  old  Abe, 
and  we'll  ride  old  Abe,  and  we'll  ride  him  to 
the  White  House  on  a  rail ! "  The  boy  dropped 
into  the  step  and  the  rhythm,  with  a  will.  He 
forgot  to  be  sullen. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  171 


CHAPTER  XII. 

"  The  shears  of  destiny." — Shakespeare. 

WAR,  !  war  !  war !  The  great  election  was 
over.  The  bitterness  of  faction  and  of  section 
had  only  intensified.  The  inevitable  had  at  last 
come.  Mobs,  riots,  and  confusion  followed 
threats,  and  at  last  the  shot  that  struck  Fort 
Sumter  echoed  in  every  village  and  hamlet  in 
the  country.  The  beginning  of  the  struggle  with 
arms  to  adjust  the  differences  between  two  irre 
concilable  doctrines — two  antagonistic  social  and 
economic  policies — had  culminated.  The  adjust 
ment  must,  indeed,  now  come.  "  Seventy-five 
thousand  troops  for  three  months ! "  The  Presi 
dent's  call  rang  out,  and  almost  before  the  echo 
died  away  the  quota  was  full.  The  young,  the 
adventurous,  and  the  hot-headed,  supplemented 
the  patriotic  and  sprang  into  line.  To  these  it 
was  to  be  a  three  months'  camping-out  lark.  Of 


172  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

course  the  South  would  back  down  at  the  show 
of  armed  strength  and  firm  resistance  to  dis 
union.  The  martial  spirit,  the  fighting  instinct 
inherent  in  the  race — that  legacy  from  our  brute 
ancestry — was  fanned  into  flame  like  fire  in  a 
summer  wind.  College  classes  were  depleted. 
Young  lads  hastened  to  force  themselves  into 
the  ranks.  Drum  and  fife  and  bugle  sounded  in 
every  street.  LeRoy  Davenport  was  one  of  the 
first  to  enlist.  The  company  of  college  boys 
elected  him  their  second  lieutenant,  and  they 
left  at  once  for  Camp  Morton  to  be  ready  to 
march  to  the  front  at  the  first  order  for  troops 
from  the  west.  He  looked  very  fine  and  sol 
dierly  and  handsome  in  his  uniform,  and  with  the 
straps  upon  his  shoulders.  Beverly  wrote  that 
he  should  stick  to  his  editorial  chair.  He  slept 
in  the  office,  to  be  ready  to  receive  and  write 
up  every  scrap  of  news  the  moment  it  came. 
He  wrote  a  series  of  fiery  editorials,  denouncing 
the  "  outrage  on  the  flag  at  Fort  Sumter."  An 
anonymous  letter  was  pushed  under  his  office- 
door  warning  him  to  desist.  He  published  the 
letter  and  appended  to  it  a  more  vigorous  article 
than  before.  That  night,  as  he  lay  on  the  bed 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  173 

in  the  little  back  room  of  the  office,  he  thought 
he  detected  a  strange  odor.  He  went  softly  to 
the  window  and  looked  out.  The  moon  was 
just  rising  on  the  river.  His  little  row-boat,  in 
which  his  fishing  and  pleasure  trips  were  taken, 
bobbed  idly  up  and  down  on  the  waves  just 
under  the  corner  of  the  building.  The  strange 
odor  grew  stronger  and  more  distinct  in  char 
acter.  He  began  to  suspect  that  he  understood 
it.  He  opened  the  door  into  the  front  room  and 
passed  on  to  the  compositors'  room.  He  was 
sure  now  that  it  was  the  smell  of  smoke  and  oil- 
soaked  cloth.  His  first  impulse  was  to  open  the 
front  door  and  shout  fire,  but  he  remembered 
Lovejoy's  fate  and  paused.  He  stepped  to  the 
front  window  and  turned  the  old  slats  of  the 
heavy  green  blinds  so  that  he  could  see  out  into 
the  narrow  street.  There  were  three  forms 
crouching  near  the  door.  He  thought  he  saw 
the  gleam  of  steel.  Flames  had  begun  to  creep 
under  the  door  and  from  the  compositors'  room. 
Suddenly  the  flimsy  pine  partition  burst  into  a 
sheet  of  flame.  He  knew  that  to  open  the  front 
door  was  to  meet  death  at  the  hands  of  desper 
adoes.  He  caught  up  the  only  implement  of 


374  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

defense  he  saw — a  pair  of  great,  sharp,  clipping- 
shears,  and  started  for  the  door.  He  intended, 
at  least,  to  mark  his  man  so  that  others  could 
deal  with  him  afterward.  Suddenly  he  remem 
bered  that  he  could  drop  from  the  back  window 
into  the  river.  If  they  had  not  taken  his  oars 
he  could  escape.  The  room  was  as  light  as  day 
now,  and  he  knew  that  to  hesitate  was  to  be  lost. 
He  dropped  the  curious  weapon  he  had  in  his 
hand,  and  ran  to  the  back  room.  The  only  rope 
there  was  the  support  of  the  old-fashioned  bed. 
He  hastily  unwound  it  and  fastened  it  to  the 
bed-post  nearest  the  window.  He  wanted  to 
make  the  drop  as  short  as  possible,  lest  the 
splash  of  the  water  attract  the  men  from  the 
front  of  the  house.  He  smiled  when  he  climbed 
into  the  boat  and  found  the  oars  safely  in  its  bot 
tom.  In  an  instant  he  was  pulling  gently,  softly, 
slowly  out  into  the  stream.  He  could  almost 
hear  the  beating  of  his  own  heart.  Then  in  the 
moonlight  a  shot  rang  out  on  the  clear  air,  and 
a  sharp  crack,  as  the  ball  struck  the  side  of  the 
boat,  told  him  that  he  was  discovered.  No  need 
for  caution  now !  Need  only  for  haste  and 
strength !  He  pulled  with  all  his  young  vigor 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  175 

— with  the  stroke  of  an  accustomed  hand.  The 
sky  was  livid  with  the  flames  from  his  burning 
office — the  dream  and  hope  of  his  first  manhood 
was  melting  before  his  eyes.  "  God  damn  'em ! " 
he  said,  between  his  set  teeth,  as  two  more  shots 
followed  him,  "  they  won't  dare  stay  longer  now 
— and  I'm  out  of  range.  God  damn  'em !  "  He 
let  the  oars  fall  by  his  side.  He  could  see  num 
bers  of  men  running  about  now,  shouting,  swear 
ing,  vainly  trying  to  check  the  flames.  Some 
one  yelled,  "  Shoot  again,  he's  in  that  skiff  ! " 

He  heard  and  understood  that  the  victim 
was  being  made  out  the  culprit.  The  would-be 
assassins  were  covering  retreat.  He  de 
cided  that  it  would  not  be  safe  to  pull  back 
to  the  Missouri  side  just  then.  He  would 
land  on  the  Kansas  shore.  Morning  found  him 
near  a  small  village.  He  landed  and  made  his 
way  directly  to  the  newspaper  office.  It  was 
one  of  his  own  exchanges,  and  a  free-soil  paper 
like  his.  He  told  his  story,  and  the  editor  made 
a  lurid  article  out  of  it  and  called  for  his  towns 
men  to  gather  in  a  public  meeting.  He  issued 
an  extra,  and  Beverly  was  the  hero  of  the  hour. 
Rough  frontiersmen — some  of  whom  had  seen 


176  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

his  paper — looked  at  the  slender  stripling  and 
volunteered  to  cross  the  river  and  "  clean  out 
the  town."  They  called  on  Beverly  for  a 
speech.  They  were  bent  upon  making  him  a 
leader.  The  war  fever  was  in  the  frontier 
blood.  He  began  his  speech  in  a  passion  of 
personal  feeling,  but  ended  in  an  appeal  for 
volunteers,  "  not  to  fight  my  battle,  not  to 
avenge  my  wrong,  not  to  repair  my  loss,  but  to 
fight  this  great  battle  for  liberty  and  freedom 
in  the  great  northwest !  It  seems  we  will 
have  to  fight  for  the  freedom  of  speech  and 
press,  as  well  as  for  free  soil !  I  will  be  frank : 
I  had  not  intended  to  enlist  in  this  war.  I  had 
hoped  to  do  more  good  by  argument  than  I 
could  hope  to  do  by  arms.  I  had  hoped  to  see 
the  end  of  it  at  the  end  of  the  three  months 
for  which  the  President  called  for  troops ;  but 
I  do  not  stand  on  that  ground  any  longer. 
Yesterday,  as  you  all  know,  there  was  issued  a 
new  call  for  five  hundred  thousand  more  men  ! 
I  want,  now,  to  be  one  of  the  first  of  those,  and 
I  shall  enlist  for  three  years  or  for  ten  years  or 
as  long  as  this  war  lasts ;  and  I  don't  want  to 
come  out  of  it  alive  if  I  have  got  to  come  out 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  177 

into  a  country  where  free  speech  is  throttled 
and  a  free  press  burned  up !  I  shall  enlist,  I 
tell  you,  and  since  I  had  to  fly  to  Kansas  for 
protection,  I  hope  that  Kansas  will  enroll  me  as 
her  son,  and  if  it  may  be,  as  her  very  first 
volunteer ! " 

The  idea  took  the  fancy  of  his  listeners. 
"  Raise  a  regiment !  "  "  I'll  go  with  you !  " 
"  Three  cheers  for  the  editor  !  " 

They  were  given  with  a  will,  and  the  enthu 
siasm  for  himself  put  a  new  idea  into  his  head. 

"I  am  only  twenty-three  years  old,"  he  said 
laughing,  "  and  not  much  bigger  than  the  right 
arm  of  some  of  you  great,  fine,  muscular  fellows  ; 
but  if  you  are  willing  to  trust  me,  I  would  ask 
nothing  better  than  to  take  the  lead  of  such  a 
body  of  men.  If  enough  of  you  will  enlist  here 
and  now,  I'll  go  with  you  as  private  or  as 
captain.  Ill  take  the  lead  and  the  responsibility, 
or  I'll  follow  any  better  qualified  man  you  may 
name,  and  we'll  go  up  to  the  capital  and  offer 
ourselves  as  the  first  Kansas  volunteers  for  this 


war 


l  " 


Almost  before    he    had    spoken  the   words 

cheer  after  cheer  rent  the  air.     Men  signified 
12 


178  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

their  willingness  to  enlist,  and  before  night  on 
the  first  day  he  had  spent  on  Kansas  soil  he 
found  himself  marching  toward  the  capital  at 
the  head  of  one  hundred  determined,  rough, 
strong,  fearless  frontiersmen  to  ask  for  a  com 
mission  as  their  captain,  and  for  arms  and  ammu 
nition  for  his  men. 

Mr.  Davenport  was  surprised  that  day  to  re 
ceive  this  dispatch  : 

"Am  elected  Captain,  Company  A.  First 
Kansas  Vols.  Will  write. 

"  BEVERLY." 

They  could  not  imagine  at  home  why  Bev- 
erley  should  be  in  a  Kansas  company,  but  when 
the  Gazette  came  that  night  with  an  account  of 
the  burning  of  the  obscure  newspaper-office  out 
in  Missouri,  they  understood,  and  Katharine  felt 
faint  and  sick  when  she  realized  that  two  of  her 
boys  had  gone  to  fight  against  her  people.  She 
knew  that  her  own  brothers  and  nephews  would 
all  be  on  the  other  side,  and  that  Griffith's  were 
there  too.  Griffith  had  gone  with  Roy's  com 
pany  to  Camp  Morton  and  had  sorrowfully  con- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  179 

Bented  to  his  enlistment ;  but  if  war  there  must 
be  and  if  his  son  must  go,  Griffith  felt  that  he 
was  on  the  right  side.  He  held  back,  himself, 
from  the  idea  that  fighting  was  necessary,  even 
yet.  At  the  very  worst,  it  would  all  be  over 
very  soon,  he  thought,  and  he  hoped  and  believed 
that  a  few  demonstrations  of  determination  on 
the  part  of  the  Government  would  undoubtedly 
settle  the  matter  without  any  real  or  serious  fight 
ing.  He  was  unalterably  opposed  to  a  division  of 
the  Union,  and  he  believed  that  the  South  would 
see  its  mistake  on  that  question  and  reconsider 
it.  But  as  State  after  State  seceded,  his  perplex 
ity  deepened.  He  and  Katherine  had  all  these 
years  kept  up  a  fond  and  constant  correspondence 
with  the  old  home  friends  and  kinsmen,  several 
of  whom,  from  time  to  time,  had  visited  them. 
All  these  had  felt  that  Griffith  had  made  a 
grievous  mistake  in  following  the  course  he  had 
taken,  but  until  now  no  real  bitterness  had  result 
ed.  Now,  all  letters  ceased.  They  had  heard, 
somehow,  in  the  old  home,  that  Griffith's  sons 
had  enlisted  in  the  Union  army — to  fight  against 
them !  That  was  more  than  they  could  bear. 
Even  before  the  line  of  communication  was 


180  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

finally  closed  against  letters,  theirs  had  ceased 
to  come — and  Katherine  understood.  Many  a 
night  she  sobbed  herself  to  sleep. 

"  How  terrible  this  all  is,  Griffith  !  How  ter 
rible  !  Why  should  they  fight  over  it  ?  Why 
don't  they  let  the  slave  states  go,  if  they  want 
to,  and  be  one  government,  and  the  others  be  free 
states  and  another  government — as  Canada  and 
we  are,  or  as  Mexico  and  we  ? " 

Griffith  had  tried  to  explain  the  difficulties 
and  the  inevitable  clashing  of  interests  that 
would  be  forever  resulting — the  constant  and 
eternal  clashing.  He  pointed  out  that  no 
country  would  allow  itself  to  be  divided.  He 
read  to  her  long  arguments  in  support  of  the 
maintenance  of  the  Union ;  but  she  said : 

"  Yes,  I  see  it  is  desirable  if  all  want  it  so  ; 
but  if  they  do  not,  why — why — I  wouldn't  fight 
to  compel  them  to  stay  with  me  if  they  want  to 
go.  You  never  do  that  way  with  your  children, 
Griffith,  you  know  you  don't.  You  never  did  try 
to  conquer  one  of  them  and  force  him  to  think 
your  way.  You  always  felt  that  way  about  free 
ing  the  slaves,  too.  You  said  you  did  not  judge 
for  other  people — only  for  yourself.  And  when 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  181 

you  saw  how  terribly  hard  it  was  to  do  it,  and 
that  most  people  could  not  do  as  you  did  even  if 
they  wanted  to — you  always  said  that  you  did 
not  blame  them  in  the  least." 

"  I  say  so  yet.  I  know  all  that ;  but  govern 
ments  are  very  different.  Some  one  has  got  to 
decide  for  others.  If  they  didn't,  everything 
would  go  to  smash  in  very  short  order.  I  sup 
pose  I  am  a  good  deal  of  a  coward.  I  can't  bear 
to  judge  for  other  people.  But  I  do  believe  in 
maintaining  this  government  at  any  and  all  cost 
— but  I'd  leave  slavery  alone  in  the  South.  I 
wouldn't  let  it  spread.  That  is  Lincoln's  policy 
now.  He  said  so  in  his  message — his  inaugural. 
If  it  will  stay  where  it  is,  he  says  he  won't 
disturb  it — and  that  suits  me ;  but  if  it  will 
not " 

"  Well,  it  won't,"  put  in  Howard.  "  I  heard 
Governor  Morton  say  so  in  his  speech  last  night. 
He  said  that  this  fight  had  all  along  been  really 
to  extend  and  not  to  retain  slavery,  and  when  that 
was  lost  then  the  South  proposed  to  smash  the 
Union.  That's  exactly  what  he  said ;  but,  '  We'll 
rally  round  the  flag,  boys,  we'll  rally  once  again,' " 
he  sang,  and  banged  the  door  behind  him. 


182  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

That  night  Howard  disappeared.  He  had  run 
away,  sworn  that  he  was  eighteen  years  old  and 
enlisted  under  another  name,  as  a  gunner  in  a 
battery  !  It  was  ten  days  before  a  trace  of  him 
was  found.  Then  he  was  on  his  way  to  the 
front  whence  news  had  come  thick  and  fast  of 
skirmishes,  battles  and  tremendous  preparations 
for  a  terrible  and  bloody  struggle.  Excitement 
was  at  fever  heat.  The  streets  were  crowded 
with  soldiers  and  echoed  with  martial  music 
night  and  day.  War,  indeed,  was  upon  them, 
and  fair  July  was  here. 


.4.2V  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  183 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  OTHER   SIDE   OF   WAK. 

IN  Washington,  on  the  twentieth  of  July, 
1861,  expectation  ran  high.  A  decisive,  and 
it  was  hoped  a  final  blow  was  to  be  struck  on 
the  following  day.  Large  numbers  of  troops 
had  passed  through  the  city  and  been  massed 
thirty  miles  away.  A  great  battle  was  immi 
nent.  Both  armies  had  recently  won  small 
victories.  Both  were  jubilant.  For  the  most 
part  the  soldiers  in  these  two  opposing  camps 
were  raw  recruits.  They  sang  and  joked  and 
played  tricks  on  each  other.  To  both,  war  was 
a  mere  name  yet,  a  painted  glory,  a  sabred, 
gold-laced  parade  before  admiring,  cheering 
crowds.  The  Confederates  knew  every  step  of 
the  ground.  To  their  opponents  it  was  an  un 
known  land  into  which  they  had  been  marched  ; 
rugged,  broken  country,  the  like  of  which  the 
most  of  them  had  never  before  seen.  Raw  and 


184  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

untried  they  were  on  both  sides,  but  the  lack  of 
knowledge  of  the  topography — of  the  location  of 
pass  and  defile,  of  ford  and  of  stream — gave  to  the 
Union  troops  (when  they  had  deigned  to  think 
of  it  at  all)  a  certain  feeling  of  insecurity  and 
uneasiness.  Still  no  one  doubted  for  a  moment 
the  outcome.  The  battle  would  be  fought  and 
won,  and  glory  would  be  carried  home  on  every 
Union  bayonet.  Civilians  drove  out  to  camp 
from  the  city,  and  from  distant  hilltops  were 
prepared  to  witness  the  battle.  A  martial  dis 
play  like  this  may  not  be  seen  through  field- 
glasses  every  day.  Early  in  the  day  cannonad 
ing  had  been  heard.  More  citizens  started  for 
the  scene  of  action.  There  were  intervals  of 
comparative  silence,  and  then  again  the  boom  of 
cannon  and  the  rattle  of  muskets  told  the 
distant  audience  that  hostilities  wrere  on — that 
neither  side  had  finally  yielded.  Later  a 
number  of  citizens  drove  furiously  across  the 
Long  Bridge  with  the  news  that  the  Northern 
troops  were  retreating  toward  the  city.  Then 
word  came  that  they  had  rallied,  but  citizens 
deserted  their  posts  of  observation  and  rode 
rapidly  toward  town.  They  reported  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  185 

Southern  troops  as  fighting  fiercely,  but  it  was 
thought  they  were  about  to  yield.  They  could 
not  hold  out  much  longer  against  the  murderous 
fire  of  the  Union  men.  Suddenly  a  flying 
horseman  with  livid  face  and  white  lips  sped 
through  the  streets.  It  was  a  messenger  from 
the  front!  He  was  making  straight  to  the 
White  House !  The  Northern  troops  were  in 
full  retreat!  People  looked  at  each  other  in 
dismay.  Surely  they  would  rally  !  They 
would  not  come  to  the  city  !  They  were  only 
falling  back !  They  would  form  and  attack 
again !  People  told  each  other  these  things 
and  turned  pale.  The  streets  began  to  be  filled 
with  returning  civilians.  No  one  stopped. 
Every  one  pushed  on  toward  home  or  to  the  Cap 
itol.  Another  foam-flecked  horse  dashed  in. 
The  rider  had  on  a  uniform,  dirty,  begrimed  and 
wet. 

"  The  Northern  troops  have  broken  ranks ! 
They  are  fleeing,  horse  and  foot,  in  one  mass  of 
disorganized  panic-stricken  humanity,  pursued 
by  a  murderous  fire  from  a  jubilant,  victory- 
intoxicated  enemy !  The  officers  could  not 
rally  them !  It  is  a  panic ! "  No  need  to 


186  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

question  the  facts.  Look  at  the  distant  hills. 
Watch  the  approaches.  See  the  succession  of 
dispatch  bearers  fly  past  to  the  White  House ! 
"  It  is  only  a  retreat !  They  will  rally !  " 
called  back  one  rider  only  to  be  contradicted  by 
the  next.  "  It  is  not  a  retreat !  It  is  a  panic ! 
They  have  broken  ranks.  Men  are  flying 
madly.  Guns,  ammunition,  everything  that 
hinders  speed  have  been  thrown  away  !  Each 
man  is  flying  to  save  himself !  Washington  is 
in  danger !  " 

The  climax  had  indeed  come.  The  dismay 
knew  no  bounds.  What  next?  Must  the 
President  escape  ?  Where  should  he  go  ?  If 
he  left,  what  could  Congress  do  ?  Must  all  fly  ? 
Where  ?  Would  the  enemy  invade  Washing 
ton  ?  Was  the  Northern  army  really  so  dis 
organized,  so  demoralized?  In  the  name  of 
God  !  what  could  it  all  mean  ?  People  all 
asked  questions.  There  was  no  one  to  answer 
them — no  one  but  the  stragglers  who  began  to 
come  in.  Were  the  brave  fellows  who  had  so 
gallantly  and  cheerfully  marched  out  not  brave 
after  all  ?  Were  they  outnumbered  ?  Were 
there  no  reinforcements  ?  What  was  the  solu- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  187 

tion  ?  They  had  not  long  to  wait.  A  handful 
of  horsemen,  shame-faced  and  hesitant,  then 
worn  out  and  hard-driven  teams  began  to  appear 
at  the  far  end  of  the  Long  Bridge.  All  Wash 
ington  took  to  its  housetops.  Anxious  faces 
watched  for  some  approaching  line.  None 
came ;  but  the  Long  Bridge  was  gorged  with  a 
struggling  mass  of  horse,  foot  and  ordnance. 
There  was  no  pretense  of  a  line  of  march. 
Each  man  fled  by  and  for  himself.  Twilight 
saw  the  streets  filled  with  men  in  soiled  and 
torn  uniform;  uniform  which  had  but  just 
marched  out  fresh  and  resplendent.  Sullen 
replies  greeted  questions. 

"  By  God,  we  didn't  know  where  we  were  ! 
Officers  didn't  know  any  more'n  we  did." 

"  Had  us  in  a  pocket !  " 

"  Gad,  we  was  lost — didn't  know  the  way  in 
ner  out !  Try  it  yerself ." 

"Willin'  t'  fight— but  not  willin'  t'  go  it 
blind  like  that."  Ambulances,  limping  footmen, 
infantry,  cavalry,  ordinance  and  supply  wagons 
crowded  and  jostled  and  swore  and  cursed  each  at 
the  other.  Each  struggled  for  place  in  advance. 
The  Long  Bridge,  the  Aqueduct  Bridge,  the 


188  A N  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Chain  Bridge,  all  were  one  mad  scene  of  confu 
sion.  The  terrified  men  saw  the  dome  of  the 
Capitol  and  their  aim  was  to  reach  it  by  the 
nearest  route.  The  thought  of  the  unknown 
country  had  been  to  them  a  nightmare  from 
which  escape  was  their  only  desire.  All  night 
the  ghastly  spectacle  was  kept  up.  No  one 
slept.  No  one  knew  what  to  expect  on  the 
morrow,  Would  the  city  be  bombarded  from 
the  heights  beyond?  Would  it  be  shelled 
and  burned  ?  Would  these  panic-stricken  men 
rally  ?  Could  they  be  depended  upon,  or  was 
the  fright  now  so  in  their  blood  that  they  would 
refuse  to  form  in  line  again  and  obey  com 
mands?  Could  they  be  relied  upon?  Penn 
sylvania  avenue  was  lined  with  tired,  terrified, 
and  wounded  men.  Churches  were  turned  into 
hospitals.  Nobody  slept.  Surgeons  were 
everywhere.  More  wounded  kept  coming  in. 
Surgeons  from  Baltimore,  .from  Philadelphia, 
and  even  from  New  York  responded  to  tele 
grams.  Special  trains  rushed  in.  Washington 
was  one  mad  whirl  of  fright  and  dismay ! 
Next  morning  the  whole  country  was  electrified 
by  the  terrible  news.  "  Extra !  'stra !  'stro  ! 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  189 

Extra !  all  'bout  terrible  defeat  m-m-m-'ion 
troops  !  'stra  !  'stra  !  'stro  !  "  In  every  town 
and  hamlet  in  the  country — on  every  table 
there  was  spread  the  awful  news  on  the  morning 
of  July  22.  Men  began  to  take  on  another 
look.  This,  indeed,  was  serious !  What  was 
to  be  done  ?  Reserve  troops  were  started 
without  delay  from  camp  and  home.  Excite 
ment  was  at  fever  heat.  Would  the  fresh 
troops  arrive  in  time  ?  Could  Washington 
hold  out  ?  Must  the  President  fly  ?  Another 
kind  of  question  bore  hard  upon  many  a  house 
hold.  Who  was  killed  ?  Who  wounded  ? 
Who  missing  ?  People  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes  and  feared  to  ask  or  to  speak  of  this  ques 
tion  nearest  their  hearts. 

Roy  Davenport's  regiment  was  ordered  to  the 
front.  Henceforth  camp  life  would  be  no  pic 
nic.  They  could  be  boys  no  longer.  Men  were 
needed  at  the  front.  Beverly's  company  had 
some  time  since  joined  the  troops  in  the  South 
west  and  was  in  the  field.  The  battery  in  which 
Howard  acted  as  gunner  was  with  Sherman  in 
the  far  South.  For  the  first  time  the  seriousness 
of  the  situation  was  borne  home  to  the  whole 


190  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

North.  To  feel  that  Washington  was  really 
in  danger  gave  a  new  meaning  to  defeat.  Why 
had  the  Northern  troops  met  such  a  fearful  dis 
aster?  Before  this  they  had  won  in  almost 
every  contest,  but  this  was  worth  all  the  rest  to 
the  South  so  near  was  it  to  Washington — so  near 
to  Richmond.  The  two  capitals  faced  each 
other  like  gladiators,  and  the  first  serious  blow 
had  fallen  with  crushing  force  upon  the  Union 
champions.  If  Washington  fell  the  Confederacy 
was  sure  of  foreign  recognition — of  success. 

Griffith  had  a  long  talk  with  Governor  Morton 
when  he  went  to  see  Roy's  regiment  off.  When 
he  came  home  he  was  pale  and  anxious.  There 
was  a  new  trouble  on  his  heart.  He  did  not 
tell  Katherine  that  Morton  had  urged  him  to 
volunteer  his  services  to  the  Government  as  a 
guide  through  the  passes  and  denies  of  his 
native  State. 

"  Your  knowledge  of  that  country  would  be 
simply  invaluable.  It  would  prevent  any  such 
disaster  as  this  again.  Panics  like  this  ruin  an 
army.  It  will  take  months  to  recover  from  such 
a  rout  even  if  nothing  worse  comes  of  it.  The 
moral  effect  is  simply  fatal.  You  are  a  Union 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  191 

man  and  you  know  every  foot  of  that  country. 
Our  generals  don't.  They  are  afraid  to  risk 
getting  their  men  into  a  pocket  and  losing  their 
whole  command.  You  can  help.  The  main 
battle-ground  is  bound  to  be  Virginia ;  we  can 
accomplish  nothing  of  value  until  we  know  and 
feel  secure  on  that  soil — until  the  State  is  an 
open  book  to  us.  Let  me  wire  the  President 
that  you  will.  Let " 

Griffith  held  up  his  hand. 

"  I  cannot !  I  cannot !  "  he  said.  "  It  is  my 
old  State  ;  I  love  it  and  my  people.  I  have 
done  enough  for  my  country.  I  have  done  my 
share.  I  have  given  my  property,  my  friends, 
my  home,  and  now  my  three  boys — all,  all  I  have 
given  for  my  conscience  and  my  country's  sake. 
Surely  I  have  done  my  whole  duty,  I  will  not 
betray  my  State  !  I  will  not !  " 

Over  and  over  the  Governor  had  returned  to 
the  attack  only  to  receive  the  same  reply.  Day 
after  day  he  argued  with  Griffith,  and  still  ill 
news  came  from  the  front.  The  army  of  the 
Potomac  seemed  paralyzed  after  its  repulse. 
The  real  gravity  of  the  situation  was,  for  the 
first  time,  borne  in  upon  both  the  military  and 


192  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  political  mind.  If  the  great  foreign  powers 
recognized  the  Confederate  government,  the  Re 
public  was  lost.  If  Washington  fell,  that  recogni 
tion  was  assured — and  still  "  all  was  quiet  on  the 
Potomac." 

The  middle  of  July  the  wires  had  flashed  the 
news  of  the  defeat  of  the  Confederates  at  Boon- 
ville,  Missouri,  by  Lyons'  men.  Beverly  had 
been  there,  and  had  written  the  full  account 
home.  Then  he  was  at  Carthage,  and  was  full 
of  fight  and  enthusiasm.  After  his  account  of 
the  battle  at  Carthage,  he  had  other  things  to 
tell.  "  I  didn't  get  a  scratch  either  place,  but 
the  day  after  the  last  fight  I  did  get  a  lot  of  fun 
out  of  it.  I  suppose  you  won't  be  able  to  see 
how  there  could  be  any  fun  in  the  situation. 
Well,  I'll  tell  you  one  or  two  things.  One  of 
my  men  showed  the  white  feather,  and  we  were 
thinking  of  court-martialing  and  making  an 
example  of  him.  I  made  up  my  mind  to  give 
Hartman  (that  was  the  fellow's  name,  Bill  Hart- 
man)  a  chance  to  tell  me  privately  his  side  of 
the  story.  Says  I,  '  Bill,  I've  asked  all  your 
neighbors  here  in  camp  if  you  were  a  coward  at 
home,  and  they  a}l  say  you  were  not  only  brave, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  193 

but  you  had  proved  it  many  a  time.  Now,  I 
want  to  save  you  this  court-martial  if  I  can,  and 
I  want  you  to  tell  me  your  side  of  it.  How  did 
it  happen  ? ' 

"  '  Wetl,'  said  he,  transferring  his  quid  of  to 
bacco  to  his  other  cheek, '  Cap,  it's  this  a-way.  I 
can't  seem  t'  jest  stand  right  up  an'  shoot  a  fel 
ler  I  ain't  had  no  words  with.  I  want  to  pick 
out  my  man  when  I  kill  him,  an'  I  want  t'  kinder 
have  a  quah'l  with  him  fust.  I  can't  seem  t' 
jest  stand  right  up  an'  kill  a  man  I  ain't  had  no 
words  with.  I  can't  do  it,  somehow  er  'nother, 
Cap.' 

"  I  don't  know  how  I'm  going  to  manage  to 
get  Bill  into  a  '  quah'l '  with  some  special  Reb 
before  the  next  fight,  and  then  make  sure  he'll 
get  a  chance  to  pop  at  that  particular  one  in 
action  !  We'll  have  to  get  up  some  scheme,  I 
suppose.  Bill  is  too  good  a  soldier  to  be  ham 
pered  and  to  have  his  usefulness  impaired  by  a 
simple  want  of  a  feeling  of  personal  revenge ! 
I  reckon  if  the  truth  were  told,  though,  we  all 
fight  a  good  deal  better  if  we  have  that  stimu 
lant.  Another  ludicrous  thing  happened  the 

other  day.     I  was  sent  out,  just  with  an  orderly, 
13    ' 


194  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

to  see  if  I  could  learn  anything  of  the  move 
ments  of  the  enemy.  We  had  on  citizens' 
clothes,  and  we  jogged  along  until  we  were 
within  field-glass  distance  of  Harris's  camp.  He 
is  an  old  West  Pointer  and  a  tactician.  I've 
heard  that  they  call  him  '  Old  Logistics  and 
Strategy ' — and  I  must  say  if  his  advice  in  the 
Senate  had  been  followed  last  winter  we'd  have 
had  a  mighty  poor  show  here  now.  But  when 
we  got  where  we  thought  we  could  see  some 
thing,  quite  a  shower  came  up  and  our  glass 
was  no  use.  Under  the  cover  of  the  rain  I 
ventured  a  good  deal  closer ;  and,  if  you'll  be 
lieve  me,  his  command  were  sitting  on  their 
horses,  drawn  up  in  line,  with  umbrellas  raised ! 
The  absurdity  of  the  thing  nearly  knocked  my 
pins  from  under  me.  I  only  wished  I  could  get 
near  enough  to  see  the  effect  on  Old  Logistics 
when  he  should  emerge  from  his  tent — and  he  a 
West  Pointer !  But  you  don't  need  to  make 
any  mistakes  about  their  fighting — these  natives. 
We've  found  that  they  will  fight  to  the  death, 
but  they've  got  their  own  ideas  on  the  subject 
of  soldiering  in  the  meantime.  Most  of  'em 
carry  their  powder  in  a  pouch,  and  it  needs  to  be 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  195 

kept  dry  !  It  was  the  very  funniest  thing  I  ever 
saw,  though.  The  rain  came  down  in  such  tor 
rents  I  couldn't  get  an  idea  how  many  there 
were,  but,  from  the  way  they  fought  us  next  day, 
I  made  up  my  mind  there  must  be  pretty  close 
to  a  million — and  they  didn't  use  umbrellas  to 
protect  themselves,  either !  They  took  our  storm 
of  shot  cooler  than  they  did  the  rain  in  camp, 
and  they  fought  like  demons.  Of  course,  their 
equipments  don't  compare  with  ours.  Most  of 
them  have  their  old  home  guns — no  two  alike. 
But  a  good  lot  of  our  boys  are  carrying  around 
some  of  their  ammunition  inside  of  them  just 
now,  all  the  same.  One  of  the  prisoners  we 
took — a  straggler — told  us  that  none  of  his 
command  are  regularly  enlisted.  They  are 
afraid  to  enlist ;  say  that  Old  Logistics  is  a 
'reg'lar,'  and,  if  they  enlist  and  then  don't 
do  just  his  way,  he'll  court-martial  them. 
They  argue  that,  if  they  don't  regularly  enlist, 
he  can't  do  anything  to  them.  They  are  ready 
and  eager  to  fight,  but  they  don't  propose  to 
be  subject  to  'regular'  discipline  in  the  in 
tervals.  This  fellow  says  half  of  the  command 
go  home  nights — to  their  farms  and  stores — and 


196  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

return  at  dawn  the  next  morning.  I  think  he 
is  lying  about  the  numbers  who  do,  but  I  don't 
doubt  that  some  do.  He  vows  he  is  telling  the 
cold  fact.  Fancy  the  humor  of  commanding  an 
army  under  umbrellas,  who  go  home  nights  to 
milk  the  cows  !  But  undertake  to  fight  'em, 
and  there  is  no  laugh  left.  That  is  not  their 
comic  side.  We  have  orders  to  move  in  the 
morning  and  are  all  ready.  I  will  let  you  hear 
again  the  moment  we  stop." 

Before  this  letter  of  Beverly's  reached  home 
the  telegraphic  news  of  the  battle  of  Wilson's 
Creek  filled  the  papers.  Beverly's  name  ap 
peared  among  the  wounded  :  "  Seriously,  not 
fatally — Captain  Beverly  Davenport;  shot  in 
three  places  while  covering  retreat  after  General 
Lyon  fell.  Young  Captain  Davenport's  men 
did  good  service.  His  command  lost  heavily." 
No  further  news  came.  Griffith  telegraphed, 
but  could  get  no  reply. 

"  You  must  go  and  bring  him  home,"  said 
Katherine.  "  I  cannot  bear  this  suspense  any 
longer." 

She  had  grown  pale  and  hollow-eyed  in  these 
few  days  of  anxiety.  Griffith  went.  He  found 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  197 

Beverly  doing  well,  but  a  ball  had  gone  through 
his  sword-arm  and  two  others  were  imbedded  in 
his  flesh.  His  horse  had  fallen  beneath  him 
and  he  had  had  to  walk  on  the  wounded  leg, 
and  had  lost  much  blood.  He  looked  weak  and 
thin.  His  orderly  had  written  home  for  him, 
but  the  letter  had  never  come.  Griffith  urged 
him  to  go  home  and  recuperate,  but  he  would 
not  listen  to  the  proposition.  Griffith  wrote 
home  to  Katherine  and  then  waited.  The  com 
mand  was  ordered  to  move,  and  still  Beverly 
was  not  able  to  go  with  it.  The  commander 
ordered  him  to  go  home  until  able  to  report  for 
duty. 

He  was  a  sensation  in  the  village.  He  was 
the  first  handsome  young  wounded  officer  to  re 
turn.  Alas  !  they  were  plenty  enough  later  on ; 
but  now  his  limp  and  his  arm  suspended  in  a 
sling  made  him  a  hero,  indeed.  Many  were  the 
demonstrations  in  his  honor.  The  Governor 
came  to  see  him,  and  strove  again  to  convince 
Griffith  that  he,  too,  was  needed  at  the  front. 
"  I  have  told  President  Lincoln  about  you,"  he 
said.  "  You  can  see  for  yourself  what  the  army 
in  Virginia  is  doing  ever  since  Bull  Run — 


198  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT, 

nothing  at  all.  Those  two  defeats — Bull  Run 
and  Ball's  Bluff — stopped  them  off  entirety. 
Action  that  will  be  effective  is  simply  impos 
sible  without  knowing  the  lay  of  the  land. 
Northern  men  don't  know  it,  and  we  can't  trust 
Southern  men  to  tell  the  truth,  of  course, 
about  it.  The  rebels  know  that  perfectly  well, 
and  they  bank  on  it.  They  keep  their  best  and 
strongest  generals,  and  men  who  know  the 
State  like  a  book,  right  there  between  Washing 
ton  and  Richmond.  It  won't  do  to  let  it  be 
generally  known,  for  that  would  put  panic  into 
our  troops  when  they  are  tried  next ;  but  there 
is  not  a  soul  the  President  can  trust  who  knows 
those  passes  and  denies  and  fords.  Captain,  I 
hope  you  know  them.  I  don't  believe  you  will 
refuse  to  go  any  place  you  are  needed.  As  a 
recruit — an  enlisted  man — you  can't  refuse." 

"  Go,"  said  Beverly ;  "  go  !  why  of  course  I 
would  if  I  knew  the  country  as  father  does,  but 
I  don't.  You  see  father  used  to  be  a  circuit- 
rider.  He  knows  every  foot  of  it  as  if  it  were 
his  front  yard,  but  I  would  know  only  a  few 
miles  near  where  we  lived.  I  was  only  a  boy 
then.  It  is  a  hard  country  to  learn.  Passes 


Atf  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  199 

are  many  and  blind.  Fords  change — it  takes  a 
native  and  an  expert  to  feel  safe  with  them.  If 

I "  He  turned  suddenly  to  his  father  in 

his  enthusiasm.  "  Why  don't  you  go,  father '? 
If  the  President  wants  you — if  your  country 

needs  you,  why "  He  saw  the  look  that 

crept  into  his  father's  face,  and  he  understood. 
The  young  fellow  limped  to  his  father's  side 
and  laid  his  left  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

"  Father  has  done  enough,"  he  said,  looking 
at  the  Governor.  "  Do  not  ask  him  to  do  this. 
He  fought  his  battle  before  the  North  came  to 
it.  He  has  borne  and  suffered  enough,  Gov 
ernor.  Father  is  a  Virginian,  blood,  bone,  and 
ancestry.  He  loves  his  people  and  his  old  home. 
We  boys  don't  remember  it  as  he  does,  but  to 
him — to  him,  it  will  always  be  home.  They 
will  always  be  his  people." 

"  Unless  it  is  desperate  and  I  am  ordered,  I 
shall  not  go,"  said  Griffith,  looking  up  almost 
defiantly.  "  You  need  not  ask  me  again,  Gov 
ernor.  I  have  done  my  share.  I  have  done 
more  for  my  country  and  my  conscience  than 
many  men  will  be  called  upon  to  do — I  have 
done  my  share." 


200  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

The  Governor  gave  it  up,  but  he  did  not  for 
get  one  phrase,  "  unless  it  is  desperate — unless 
I  am  ordered."  That  night  he  started  for 
Washington,  and  a  week  later  Beverly  returned 
to  his  command  and  to  duty  in  the  field. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  201 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  SILENT   HERO. 

ONE  evening  Griffith  sat  by  the  library  table 
reading,  and  Katherine  was.  moving  about  the 
room  restlessly.  For  several  days  no  news  had 
come  from  the  front — no  home  news,  no  letters 
from  the  absent  sons.  The  door  leading  to  the 
porch  was  open  and  suddenly  there  stood  before 
them  a  messenger  with  a  telegram.  Katherine 
grew  weak  and  sick.  Griffith  tore  the  envelope 
open  and  read.  She  watched  his  face.  Every 
vestige  of  blood  had  left  it,  and  his  head  sank  on 
his  arms  crossed  on  the  table  before  him.  The 
telegram  was  crushed  in  one  hand.  A  groan 
escaped  him,  and  then  a  sob  shook  his  frame. 

"  Which  one  is  it  ?  Which  one  of  my  boys  is 
killed  ?  Which — which  one  ?  "  cried  Katherine. 
She  tried  to  loosen  the  hand  that  clasped  the 
message,  but  he  held  it  crushed,  and  when  he 


202  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

lifted  his  head  tears  were  streaming  down  his 
cheeks.  He  tried  to  reassure  her.  "  It  is  not 
that"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "  They — the  boys  are 

all  right,  but  they  have  ordered  me ."     He 

relaxed  his  grasp,  and  his  head  sank  again  on 
his  arms. 

She  took  the  message  and  read : 

"  Washington,  D.  C. 
"  Report  here  immediately. 

"  A.  LINCOLN." 

For  a  moment  Katherine  seemed  stunned. 
She  did  not  comprehend.  Then  she  seemed  to 
rise  far  above  her  normal  stature. 

"  You  shall  not  go ! "  she  said.  Her  eyes 
blazed.  Her  hands  hung  by  her  sides,  but  they 
were  clenched  until  the  nails  sank  into  the 
flesh.  The  tigress  in  her  was  at  last  aroused. 
"  You  shall  not  go !  How  dare  he  ?  With 
three  of  my  boys  in  the  army  now  !  With  us 
reduced  to  this  !  "  She  had  never  complained 
of  the  change  in  her  style  of  living,  but  she 
flung  out  the  contemptuous  fire  within  her  as 
she  stretched  out  her  arms  to  indicate  the  sim 
plicity  of  her  surroundings.  "  With  this  in 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  203 

exchange  for  what  we  had!  With  every  tie 
broken  !  With  every  luxury  and  comfort  gone  ! 
Separated  from  even  the  negroes  that  loved  us 
and  begged  to  come  with  us  !  How  dare  they 
ask  for  further  sacrifice  from  us !  How  dare 
he!" 

Griffith's  head  lifted  slowly.  He  looked  at 
her  in  dismay.  Was  this  the  patient,  compliant 
wife  who  had  willingly  given  up  her  fortune  and 
her  home  to  satisfy  his  conscience  ?  Was  this 
the  silent,  demure,  self-controlled  Katherine — 
this  very  tall,  angry  woman  ?  She  looked  like 
a  fury  unchained.  She  took  a  step  nearer  to 
him. 

"  You  shall  not  go  ! "  she  repeated,  and  the 
astonished  messenger-boy  fled  in  affright,  as  she 
suddenly  threw  both  arms  about  Griffith  and 
began  to  sob  convulsively. 

Griffith  held  her  to  his  breast,  which  heaved 
and  choked  him.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
could  not  speak.  At  last  he  whispered  softly  : 
"  I  must  go,  Katherine.  It  is  an  order  from  the 
President.  I  will  have  to  go  to  Washington." 
He  had  not  finished  speaking  until  he  felt  her 
form  begin  to  shrink  and  collapse  in  his  grasp. 


204  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Her  eyes  half  closed,  half  opened  again,  then 
closed  and  a  ghastly  pallor  spread  itself  over  her 
face.  For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Katherine 
had  fainted.  His  first  thought  was  that  she  was 
dead.  A  great  wave  of  fear  and  then  of  self-re 
proach  swept  over  him.  He  sat  staring  in  the 
ghastly  face. 

"  I  have  sacrificed  her  very  life  to  my  con 
science,"  he  moaned  aloud.  "  I  had  no  right  to 
do  that !  God  help  me  !  God  forgive  me ! 
What  is  it  right  to  do  ?  Can  we  never  know 
what  is  right  ?  "  He  was  holding  her  in  his 
arms,  with  his  own  face  upturned  and  staring 
eyes.  "  God  help  me  !  God  help  me  !  What 
is  it  right  to  do  ?  "  he  moaned  again. 

"  'Fo'  de  good  Lawd  on  high,  Mos'  Grif,  what 
de  matter  wif  Mis'  Kate  ?  What  de  mattah  wif 
all  two,  bofe  of  yoh  ? "  exclaimed  Aunt  Judy. 
"  I  done  see  dat  little  rapscallion  what  brung  de 
telegraf  letter  run  fo'  deah  life,  an'  he  yell  back 
dat  Mis'  Kate  done  gone  crazy,  an' " 

Judy  had  hobbled  to  his  side,  and  her  old 
eyes  were  growing  used  to  the  changed  light. 
She  saw  his  tear-stained  face  and  Katherine's 
lifeless  form  in  his  arms. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  205 

"  Is  Mis'  Kate  daid,  Mos'  Grif  ?  "  she  asked, 
in  an  awed  voice. 

"  I  have  killed  her,"  he  said,  like  one  in  a 
dream,  looking  at  the  old  woman  as  to  one  who 
could  be  relied  on  to  understand.  Katherine's 
eyelids  began  to  move.  They  slowly  lifted 
and  closed  again.  The  old  woman  saw  it  first. 

"  Mos'  Grif,  wat  fo'  yoh  tell  me  dat  kine  er 
talk?  Mis'  Kate,  she  ain't  daid.  She's  des 
foolin'.  Yoh  ain't  hu'tted,  is  yoh,  honey  ?  "  she 
cooed,  stroking  Katherine's  hair.  "  Nobody 
ain't  hu'tted  yoh,  is  dey,  Mis'  Kate?  No 
body " 

"  Get  some  water — quick,  quick  ! "  said  Grif 
fith,  and  struggled  to  the  couch  with  his  bur 
den.  He  knelt  beside  her  and  stroked  her 
forehead  and  chafed  her  hands.  He  could  not 
speak,  but  he  tried  to  control  his  distorted  feat 
ures,  that  she  might  not  understand — might  not 
remember — when  she  should  open  her  eyes. 

"  Heah  some  wattah,  honey.  Des  yoh  take  a 
big  sup.  Hit  gwine  ter  do  yoh  good.  Dar, 
now,  I  gwine  ter  lif '  yoah  haid.  Now,  den,  yoh 
des  lay  des  dat  away,  an'  Aunt  Judy  gwine  ter 
run  an'  git  dat  rabbit  foot !  Dat  gwine  ter  cuah 


206  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

yoh  right  off.  It  is  dat.  Dey  ain't  no  doctah  in 
dis  roun'  worl'  kin  cuah  yoh  like  wat  dat  kin — 
let  erlone  one  er  dese  heah  Yankee  doctahs ! 
Hit  fotch  me  to  you  alls  dat  time  wat  yoh 
runned  away,  an'  hit  fetch  dem  roses  back  to 
yoah  cheeks,  too.  Dat  hit  kin  ! " 

She  hobbled  off  to  her  loft  to  find  her  precious 
talisman,  and  Griffith  softly  closed  and  locked 
the  door  behind  her.  Katherine  lay  so  still  he 
thought  she  had  fallen  asleep.  He  could  see 
her  breathing.  He  went  to  his  seat  beside  the 
couch  and  gently  fanned  her  pale  face.  The 
color  had  come  again  in  the  lips.  Presently  he 
went  softly  across  the  room  and  took  up  the 
crumpled  message  from  the  floor,  where  she  had 
dropped  it. 

"  Report  here  immediately. 

"  A.  LINCOLN." 

There  could  be  no  mistake  about  that.  It 
was  a  command  from  the  President,  imperative, 
urgent.  He  sank  into  the  chair  again,  and  his 
head  fell  on  his  folded  arms  on  the  table.  His 
lips  were  moving,  but  there  was  no  sound.  At 
last  he  was  conscious  of  a  light  tapping  on  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  207 

window.  He  was  surprised  to  find  that  it  was 
dark.  He  crossed  the  room  to  find  Rosanna 
outside  with  a  tray. 

"  Shure,  an'  Oi  troied  both  dures,  an'  not  a 
sound  did  Oi  git.  'Tis  long  phast  yer  tay 
toime,  an'  not  a  pick  have  ye  et — nayther  wan 
av  yez.  The  ould  nayger's  done  fed  the  baby 
an'  put  her  t'  bed.  Shure,  an'  she's  a-galavantin' 
'round  here  thryin'  the  dures  an'  windeys, 
flourishm'  the  f  ut  av  a  bunnie,  be  jabbers  !  She 
says  'tis  what  yez  wants  fer  yer  health ;  but,  sez 
Oi,  viddles  is  what  they  wants,  sez  Oi — an'  here 
they  be." 

Griffith  opened  the  door. 

"  Is  it  wan  av  the  young  maisthers  kilt, 
shure  ? "  she  whispered,  as  she  put  the  tray 
down. 

Griffith  shook  his  head. 

"  Well,  thanks  be  t'  Almoighty  God  an'  all 
the  blished  saints  !  Oi  feared  me  it  was  the 
young  maisther — an'  shure  an'  ye'd  go  fur  and 
not  foind  the  loikes  av  him  agin.  He  looked 
just  simply  ghrand  in  his  ossifer's  uniforum. 
Yez  moight  say  ghrand  !  Shure  an'  nobody  else 
could  match  up  wid  'im!  He  looked  that 


208  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

rehspectable  !  An'  the  schape  av  'im  !  "  She 
threw  up  her  hands  and  admired  the  absent 
Beverly.  "  The  schape  av  'im  !  Yez  moight 
say !  He  shurely  do  become  them  soger  close  ! 
Now,  can't  yez  ate  the  rear  av  thim  berries, 
dear  ?  They're  simply  ghrand,  they're  shplen- 
did ! " 

Katherine  seemed  to  be  sleeping,  and  Griffith 
soon  pushed  the  tray  aside.  Rosanna  took  it 
up.  Then  she  leaned  forward. 

"  Shure,  an'  that  ould  nayger's  awful  reh 
spectable  ;  ye  can  see  that  by  the  lukes  av  her  ; 
but  she's  thet  foolish  with  her  ould  ded  bunnie 
fut  thet  she  makes  me  craipy  in  me  shpine." 

She  glanced  about  her  before  venturing  out, 
and  then  made  a  sudden  dash  for  the  kitchen. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  209 


CHAPTER  XV. 

"  The  depths  and  shoals  of  honor."     Shakespeare, 

WHEN  Griffith  reached  Washington  he  sent 
his  name  directly  to  the  President,  and  was  told 
to  go  to  the  room  which  Mr.  Lincoln  called  his 
workshop,  and  where  his  maps  were.  The  walls 
and  tables  were  covered  with  them.  There  was 
no  one  in  the  room  when  Griffith  entered.  He 
walked  to  a  window  and  stood  looking  out. 
In  the  distance,  across  the  river,  he  could  see 
the  heights.  He  noticed  a  field-glass  on  the 
table.  He  took  it  up  and  focused  it.  The 
powerful  instrument  seemed  to  bring  the  Long 
Bridge  to  his  very  feet.  He  remembered  in 
what  tense  excitement  he  had  seen  and  crossed 
that  bridge  last,  and  how  he  had  thought  and 
spoken  of  it  as  the  dead-line.  He  recalled  the 
great  relief  he  had  felt  when  his  negroes  and  his 
own  carriage  had  at  last  touched  free  soil — were 

indeed  in  the  streets  of  Washington.     It  came 
14 


210  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

over  him  that  the  country,  as  well  as  he,  had 
traveled  a  very  long  way  since  that  time — and 
over  a  stormy  road.  A  blare  of  martial  music 
sounded  in  the  distance.  Pie  watched  the 
soldiers  moving  about  in  parade.  Pie  thought 
of  his  own  sons,  and  wondered  where  they  were 
and  if  they  were  all  safe  to-day.  A  heavy  sigh 
escaped  him,  and  a  hand  fell  upon  his  shoulder. 
He  turned  to  face  the  tall,  strange,  dark  man 
who  had  entered  so  silently.  His  simple  and 
characteristically  direct  words  were  not  needed 
to  introduce  him.  No  one  could  ever  mistake 
the  strong  face  that  had  been  caricatured  or 
idealized  by  friend  or  foe  in  every  corner  of  the 
land,  but  which,  after  all,  had  never  been  re 
produced  with  its  simple  force  and  rugged 
grandeur.  Before  Griffith  could  speak  he  felt 
that  the  keen  but  kindly  eyes  had  taken  his 
measure — he  was  being  judged  by  a  reader  of 
that  most  difficult,  varied  and  complicated  of 
languages — the  language  of  the  human  face. 

"  I  am  Abraham  Lincoln,"  he  said,  as  if  he 
were  introducing  a  man  of  but  slight  import 
ance,  "  and  you  are  Mr.  Davenport.  I  was  ex 
pecting  you."  He  took  Griffith's  hand  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  211 

shook  it  warmly,  in  the  hearty,  western  fashion, 
which,  in  Mr.  Lincoln's  case,  had  also  a  per 
sonal  quality  of  frankness  and  of  a  certain  hu 
man  longing  for  that  contact  of  the  real  with 
the  real  which  it  is  the  function  of  civilization 
to  wipe  out. 

"  I  would  have  known  you  any  place,  Mr.  Lin 
coln,"  began  Griffith.  "  Your  pictures " 

"  Anybody  would,"  broke  in  the  President, 
with  his  inimitable  facial  relaxation,  which  was 
not  a  smile,  but  had  in  it  a  sense  of  humor 
struggling  to  free  it  from  its  somber  cast,  "  any 
body  would.  My  pictures  are  ugly  enough,  but 
none  of  'em  ever  did  my  ugliness  full  justice,  but 
then  they  never  look  like  anybody  else.  I  re 
member  once,  out  in  Sangamon  county,  I  said  if 
ever  I  saw  a  man  who  was  worse  looking  than  I, 
I'd  give  him  my  jack-knife.  The  knife  was 
brand  new  then." 

He  ran  his  hand  through  his  stiff,  black  hair 
and  gave  it  an  additional  air  of  disorder  and 
stubbornness.  He  had  placed  a  chair  for  Grif 
fith  and  taken  one  himself.  He  crossed  one 
long  leg  over  the  other  and  made  a  pause. 

Griffith  was  waiting  for  the  end  of  his  story. 


212  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  concluded  that  there  was  to  be  no  end,  and 
he  ventured  a  quizzical  query : 

"  You  don't  mean  to  tell  me  that  you  are  car 
rying  that  knife  yet,  Mr.  President?" 

Both  laughed.  Griffith  felt  strangely  at  home 
already  with  this  wonderful  man.  He  did  not 
realize  that  it  was  this  particular  aim  which  had 
actuated  Mr.  Lincoln  from  the  moment  he  had 
entered  the  room.  This  reader  and  leader  of 
men  had  taken  the  plan  of  his  legal  years,  and 
was  taking  time  to  analyze  his  guest  while  he 
threw  him  off  his  guard.  In  the  midst  of  the 
laugh  he  stretched  out  his  long  leg  and  dived 
into  his  trousers'  pocket. 

"  No,  sir,  you  may  not  believe  it,  but  that's 
not  the  same  knife  !  I  carried  the  other  one — 
well — I  reckon  it  must  have  been  as  much  as 
fifteen  years — with  that  offer  open.  It  lost  its 
beauty — and  I  didn't  gain  mine.  It  was  along 
in  the  fifties  somewhere,  when  one  day  I  was 
talking  with  a  client  of  mine  on  the  corner  of 
the  main  street  in  Springfield,  and  along  came  a 
fellow  and  stopped  within  ten  feet  of  us.  I 
looked  at  him  and  he  looked  at  me,  and  we  both 
looked  into  a  looking-glass  in  the  store  window. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATSIOT.  213 

I'd  tried  to  be  an  honorable  man  all  my  life,  and 
hard  as  it  was  to  part  with  an  old  friend,  I  felt 
it  was  my  duty  to  give  him  that  knife — and  I 
did." 

There  was  a  most  solemn  expression  on  his 
host's  face.  Griffith  laughed  heartily  again. 
The  President  was  gazing  straight  before  him. 

"  I  don't  know  where  that  man  came  from, 
and  I  don't  know  where  he  went  to,  but  he  won 
that  knife  fair  and  square.  I  was  a  good  deal 
of  a  beauty  compared  to  him  !  " 

The  very  muscles  of  his  face  twinkled  with 
humor.  No  one  would  have  felt  the  homeliness 
of  his  face,  lit  as  it  now  was  in  its  splendid  rug- 
gedness,  with  the  light  and  glory  of  a  great  and 
tender  soul  playing  with  its  own  freaks  of  fancy. 

But  before  the  laugh  had  died  out  of  Grif 
fith's  voice,  the  whole  manner  of  the  President 
had  changed.  He  had  opened  the  pen-knife 
and  was  drawing  the  point  of  the  blade  down  a 
line  on  the  large  map  which  lay  on  the  table 
beside  him. 

"  Morton  tells  me  that  you  used  to  be  a  cir 
cuit-rider  down  in  these  mountains  here,  and 
that  you  know  every  pass,  defile  and  ford  in  the 


214  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

State."  He  looked  straight  at  Griffith  and  ran 
his  great,  bony  hand  over  his  head  and  face,  but 
went  hastily  on :  "I  know  how  that  is  myself. 
Used  to  be  a  knight  of  the  saddlebags  out  in 
Illinois,  along  about  the  same  time — only  my 
circuit  was  legal  and  yours  was  clerical.  I  car 
ried  Blackstone  in  my  saddlebags — after  I  got 
able  to  own  a  copy — and  you  had  a  Bible,  I 
reckon — volumes  of  the  law  in  both  cases !  Let 
me  see.  How  long  ago  was  that  ?  " 

"  I  began  in  twenty-nine,  Mr.  President,  and 
rode  circuit  for  ten  years.  Then  I  was  located 
and  transferred  the  regular  way  each  one  or  two 
years  up  to  fifty-three.  That — year — I — left — 
my — -native — state ." 

Mr.  Lincoln  noticed  the  hesitancy  in  the  last 
words,  the  change  in  the  tone,  the  touch  of  sad 
ness.  He  inferred  at  once  that  what  Senator 
Morton  had  told  him  of  this  man's  loyalty  had 
had  something  to  do  with  his  leaving  the  old 
home. 

"Found  it  healthier  for  you  to  go  West, 
did  you  ?  Traveled  toward  the  setting  sun. 
Wanted  to  keep  in  the  daylight  as  long  as  you 
could ;  but  I  see  you  took  the  memory  of  the 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  215 

dear  old  home  with  you.  Have  you  never  been 
back?" 

"  I  don't  look  like  much  of  an  outlaw,  do  I, 
Mr.  Lincoln  ?  "  asked  Griffith,  with  a  sad  smile. 

"  Can't  say  I  would  take  you  for  one,  no." 
The  President  turned  a  full,  long,  searching  look 
upon  him. 

"  Well,  I  have  never  been  back — home — I — 
I  left  two  freed  slaves  in  the  State  when  I  came 
away,  and,  you  know " 

Mr.  Lincoln  laughed  for  the  first  time  aloud. 
"  Ha,  ha,  ha,  ha,  ha !  You  remind  me  of  a  case 
we  had  out  in  Illinois.  There  was  an  old  fellow 
trying  to  stock  a  pond  he  had  with  fish.  Well, 
that  pond  was  so  close  to  town  and  so  handy, 
that  the  boys — some  of  'em  about  as  old  as  you 
and  me — caught  'em  out  as  fast  as  he  put  'em  in. 
By  and  by  his  son  got  into  the  Legislature,  and 
one  day  when  there  wasn't  a  great  deal  of  other 
law  to  make  or  to  spoil,  he  got  the  other  members 
to  vote  for  a  bill  to  punish  anybody  for  taking 
anything  out  of  that  pond.  His  bill  said,  '  for 
fishing  anything  out  of  that  pond.'  Well,  one 
day  a  little  son  of  his  fell  in  and  got  so  far  from 
shore  before  they  saw  him  that  they  had  to  liter- 


210  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ally  fish  him  out  with  a  pole.  Some  of  the  fish 
ermen  around  there  wanted  him  arrested  for 
violation  of  the  law  he  had  passed  to  hit  them. 
— Fact !  He  and  you  are  about  the  same  sort 
of  criminals."  He  turned  to  the  map  again. 
"  Of  course  I  understand  what  you  mean.  Yes, 
yes,  I  know.  These  very  passes  and  fords  are 
dear  to  you.  Some  people  have  that  sort  of  at 
tachments.  I  have.  Why,  I'd  feel  like  getting 
down  off  o'  my  horse  at  many  a  place  out  on  my 
old  circuit  and  just  making  love  to  the  very 
earth  beneath  my  feet!  O,  I  know  how  you 
feel !  These  old  fords  are  old  friends.  As  you 
rode  along  at  another  place,  certain  thoughts 
came  to  you,  and  kept  you  company  for  miles. 
They  would  come  back  to  you  right  there  again. 
Right  over  there  was  a  sorrowful  memory.  You 
knew  the  birds  that  nested  in  this  defile,  and 
you  stopped  and  put  the  little  fellows  back  in 
the  nest  when  they  had  fallen  out — and  they 
were  not  afraid  of  you.  I  know  how  that  is. 
They  never  were  afraid  of  me — none  but  the 
yellow-legged  chickens."  He  smiled  in  his 
quizzical  way.  He  was  still  testing  and  study 
ing  his  guest,  while  keeping  him  off  his  guard, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  217 

and  making  him  forget  the  President  in  his  re 
lations  with  the  man. 

Griffith  had  begun  to  wonder  how  he  could 
know  about  those  birds  and  woodland  friends  of 
long  ago,  but  the  yellow-legged  chicken  joke 
was  so  familiar  to  the  preacher  that  he  smiled 
absently,  as  in  duty  bound. 

"  I'm  really  glad  to  know  that  there  are  other 
circuit-riders  than  we  of  the  cloth  who  strike 
terror  to  the  inmates  of  the  barnyard,  but  I 
never  before  heard  any  one  else  accused  of  it." 

"  I  remember,  once,"  began  Mr.  Lincoln,  re- 
crossing  his  long  legs  and  taking  up  the  pen 
knife  again — "  I  remember,  once,  when  a  lot  of 
us  were  riding  over  to  a  neighboring  town  from 
Springfield.  I  had  the  wrong  end  of  a  case,  I 
know,  and  was  feeling  pretty  chilly  along  the 
spine  whenever  I  thought  of  it.  The  judge 
was  with  the  party,  and  the  only  way  I  ever  did 
win  that  suit  was  by  pretending  not  to  see  the 
chickens  hide  under  the  corn-shocks  the  minute 
he  got  off  his  horse.  He'd  eat  a  whole  pullet 
every  meal,  and  he  got  around  so  often  they  all 
knew  him — some  by  sight  and  some  by  hear- 
say." 


218  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  drew  the  map  toward  him  and  indicated 
a  spot  by  holding  the  point  of  his  knife  on  it. 

"  There's  a  strip  along  here,"  he  began,  and 
Griffith  arose  and  bent  over  the  map,  "that  I 
can't  make  out.  That  seems  to  be  an  opening 
in  the  mountains  ;  but " 

"  No — no,"  said  Griffith,  taking  up  a  pencil 
from  the  table.  "  No ;  the  real  opening — the 
road  pass —  Let  me  see ;  what's  the  scale  of 
miles  here  ?  M-m-m !  Four  ?  No —  Why, 
the  road  pass  is  at  least  five  miles  farther  on." 
He  drew  a  line.  "  You  see,  it's  like  this. 
There."  He  stopped  and  shook  his  head. 
"  M-m-m !  No,  n-o-o ;  that  map's  all  wrong. 
It  ought  to  run  along  there — so.  This  way. 
The  road — the  wagon  road — trends  along  here — 
so.  Then  you  go  across  the  ridge  at  an  angle 
here — so.  There  ought  to  be  a  stream  here. 
O  pshaw  !  this  map's —  Where  did  you  get  this 
map  ?  It's  no  account,  at  all.  Why,  according 
to  this,  there's  at  least  seven  miles  left  out  right 
here,  between —  Why,  right  here,  where 
they've  got  those  little,  insignificant-looking 
foothills,  is  one  of  the  most  rugged  and  impas 
sable  places  in  this  world  !  Here,  now  !  "  He 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  219 

drew  several  lines  and  turned  the  map.  "  O 
pshaw !  there's  no  place  left  now  for  the — 
Here,  right  a-b-o-u-t  h-e-r-e — no,  there,  right 
there — is  the  Bedolph  estate — fine  old  stone 
house,  corn-fields,  wheat,  orchards — a  splendid 
place.  Then,  as  you  go  up  this  way,  you  pass  into 
a  sort  of  pocket — a  little  strip  pretty  well  hedged 
in.  You  couldn't  go  with  a  carriage  without 
making  a  circuit  around  here — this  way — but  a 
horseman  can  cut  all  that  off  and  go — so.  See? 
There  is  a  mill — fine  old  mill  stream — right 
here — runs  this  way." 

Mr.  Lincoln  had  followed  every  line  eagerly, 
making  little  vocal  sounds  of  understanding,  or 
putting  in  a  single  word  to  lead  Griffith  on. 
Suddenly  he  said : 

"  You're  a  good  Union  man  Morton  tells  me." 

"  I  am,  indeed,  Mr.  Lincoln.  Nobody  in  the 
world  could  be  more  sorry  than  I  over  the  pres 
ent  situation.  I " 

"  How  sorry  are  you  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  asked  Griffith, 
straightening  up.  Mr.  Lincoln  arose  at  the 
same  time. 

"  How   much   of   a   Union  man  are  you  ? — 


220  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

'nough  to  help  save  it  ?  How  sorry  are  you  ? — 
sorry  enough  to  act  ?  " 

Griffith  had  almost  forgotten  why  he  was 
here.  It  all  came  back  to  him.  He  began  to 
breathe  hard. 

"  I  have  acted,  I  have  helped,"  he  said, 
moving  toward  the  window.  "  When  you  came 
in  the  room  I  was  looking  through  those  fine 
glasses  of  yours  at  that  bridge,  across  which  I 
came  in  fifty-three,  self-exiled,  hastening  to 
escape  from  the  bondage  of  ownership,  and,  at 
the  last,  from  the  legal  penalty  of  leaving  be 
hind  me  two  freed,  runaway  negroes."  He  had 
lifted  the  glasses  to  his  eyes  again.  "  I  thought 
then  that  I  had  done  my  full  duty — all  of  it. 
But  since  then  I  have  given  my  three  sons  to 
you — to  my  country.  They " 

Mr.  Lincoln's  muscular  hand  rested  on  Grif 
fith's  shoulder. 

"Look  at  that  bridge  again.  Do  you  see 
any  dead  men  on  it  ?  Do  you  see  young  sons 
like  your  own  dragging  bleeding  limbs  across 
it?  Do  you  see  terror-stricken  horses  strug 
gling  with  and  trampling  down  those  wounded 
boys  ?  Do  you  see " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  221 

Griffith  turned  to  look  at  him,  in  surprise. 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  nothing  of  the  kind.  There 
are  a  few  soldiers  moving  about  down  this  side, 
but  there's  nothing  of  that  kind." 

He  offered  the  glasses  to  the  President,  who 
waved  them  away. 

"  I  don't  need  them !  "  and  an  inexpressibly 
sad  expression  crossed  his  face.  "  I  don't  need 
them.  I  have  seen  it.  I  saw  it  all  one  day.  I 
saw  it  all  that  night  as  it  trailed  past  here. 
I  heard  the  groans.  The  blood  was  under  that 
window.  I  have  seen  it !  I  have  seen  nothing 
else  since.  If  you  have  never  seen  a  panic  of 
wounded  men,  pray  to  your  God  that  you  never 
may ! "  The  sorrowful  voice  was  attuned  now 
to  the  sorrowful,  the  tragic  face.  "  Do  you 
see  that  lounge  over  there  ?  "  He  pointed  to 
the  other  side  of  the  room.  "  Men  think  it  is  a 
great  thing  to  be  a  President  of  a  great  nation 
— and  so  it  is,  so  it  is ;  yet  for  three  nights 
while  you  slept  peacefully  in  your  bed  I  lay 
there,  when  I  wasn't  reading  telegrams  or  re 
ceiving  messages,  not  knowing  what  would 
come  next — waiting  to  be  ready  for  whatever  it 
might  be." 


222  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  waited  for  the  full  effect  of  his  words, 
but  Griffith  did  not  speak. 

"  I  was  waiting  to  be  ready  for  whatever  did 
come,"  he  repeated,  slowly,  t;and  to  give  my 
whole  soul,  mind,  heart,  intellect,  and  body,  if 
need  be,  to  my  country's  service.  I  could  not 
sit  back  in  my  arm-chair  and  say  that  I  have 
done  my  share  —  I  had  done  enough !  If  I 
knew  how  to  save  or  prevent  a  repetition  of 
that  horror,  had  I  done  my  share — had  I  done 
my  duty — until  I  did  prevent  it  ?  " 

Griffith  began  to  understand.  He  sank  heav 
ily  into  a  chair,  and  drew  his  hand  slowly  over 
his  forehead  again  and  again.  His  eyes  were 
closed,  but  the  President  was  studying  the  face 
grimly  as  he  went  on  :  "  If  a  man  is  drowning, 
have  you  done  your  whole  duty  if  you  swim  to 
shore  and  call  back  to  him  that  you  got  out  ? 
If " 

"  Mr.  Lincoln,  I "  began  Griffith,  but  the 

astute  man  heard  still  a  note  of  protest  in  the 
voice  under  the  note  of  pain,  and  he  did  not 
allow  him  to  finish. 

"  If  there  is  but  one  way  to  stop  all  this  hor 
rible  suffering,  this  awful  carnage,  and  there  is 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  223 

some  one  who  knows  how  to  do  it,  who  is  re 
sponsible  for  its  continuance?  This  Union  is 
going  to  be  maintained  if  there  is  not  a  soul  left 
to  enjoy  its  blessings  but  the  widows  and 
orphans  the  war  for  its  life  has  made  I  "  he  said, 
bringing  his  great  muscular  fist  down  on  the 
table,  and  Griffith  opened  his  eyes  and  sat  star 
ing  at  him  with  a  pain-distorted  face.  "  This 
war  is  not  for  fun !  It  is  not  waged  for  con 
quest  !  It  is  not  our  choice ;  but  the  people  of 
this  Nation  have  placed  me  at  the  head  of  this 
Nation  to  sustain  its  integrity — to  maintain  this 
Union  against  all  foes,  and  by  the  Eternal  I  am 
going  to  do  it !  You  will  help  us  if  indeed  you 
are  a  Union  man !  You  will  desert  us  in  our 
hour  of  need  if  you  are  simply  a  self-indulgent 
moralist,  who  feeds  expensive  pap  to  his  personal 
conscience,  but  gives  a  stone  to  his  starving 
neighbor !  This  Government  needs  you.  It 
needs  exactly  what  you  are  able  to  give.  Are 
you  its  friend  or  its  enemy  ?  " 

Griffith  had  shifted  his  position  uneasily  as 
the  torrent  of  words  had  poured  from  the  lips 
of  the  fire-inspired  man  before  him.  Lincoln's 
long  arm  had  flung  out  toward  him  with  a  gest- 


224  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ure  of  appeal,  but  lie  did  not  wait  for  a  reply. 
He  had  not  finished  presenting  the  case  in  a 
light  in  which  he  felt  sure  it  would  touch  the 
character  of  the  man  before  him. 

"  Are  your  small  personal  needs  paramount  to 
those  of  your  country  ?  Have  you  no  patriot 
ism  ?  Have  you  no  mercy  upon  our  soldiers  ? 
Must  more  hundreds  of  them  suffer  defeat  and 
death  for  the  lack  of  what  you  can  give  them  ? 
Are  you  willing  to  receive  the  benefits  of  a  free 
country  which  you  are  not  willing  to  help  in 
her  hour  of  greatest  need  ?  Can  you — do  you — 
want  to  leave  your  young  sons  and  the  sons  of 
your  neighbors  on  the  far  side  of  the  dead  line 
marked  by  that  bridge  ?  "  The  allusion  was  a 
chance  one,  but  it  struck  home. 

Griffith  put  out  his  hand. 

"  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  "  he  gasped, 
hoarsely. 

The  President  grasped  his  hand  and  held  it  in 
a  vice-like  grip.  "  What — do — I — want — you 
— to — do  ? "  he  asked,  with  a  deliberation 
strangely  at  variance  with  the  passion  of  his 
words  a  moment  ago.  He  looked  down  search- 
ingly,  kindly,  pityingly  into  the  troubled  eyes 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  225 

before  him.  "  What  do  I  want  you  to  do  ?  I — 
want  —  you  — to  —  follow — your — conscience — 
— for — the — benefit — of  —  your  —  country  —  in 
stead  —  of — for  —  your —  own  — personal — com 
fort, — until — that —  conscience  —  tells  —  you — 
your — country — needs — you — no — longer ;  that 
you  have,  in  deed  and  in  truth,  done  your  share 
fully  !  I  want  you  to  go  with  an  advance  guard 
down  through  that  very  country " — his  long 
ringer  pointed  to  the  disfigured  map  on  the 
table — "  and  show  our  commander  the  real  topo 
graphy  of  that  land.  I  want  you  to  make  him 
as  familiar  with  it  as  you  are  yourself.  I  want 
you  to  show  him  where  the  passes  and  fords  are, 
where  supplies  can  be  carried  across,  where 
water  is  plenty,  and  where  both  advance  and 
retreat  are  possible  without  useless  and  horrible 
slaughter.  I  want  you —  He  was  still  hold 
ing  Griffith's  right  hand.  He  placed  his  left  on 
his  shoulder  again.  "  No  man  has  done  his  duty 
in  a  crisis  like  this  until  he  has  done  all  that  he 
can  to  hasten  the  dawn  of  peace ;  "  he  lowered 
his  voice,  "  and  he  that  is  not  with  us  is  against 

us,"  he  said  solemnly,  the  scriptural  language 
15 


226  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

falling  from  his  lips  as  if  their  professions  were 
reversed. 

"  How  far  do  you  want  me  to  go  ?  "  asked 
Griffith,  looking  up  with  an  appeal  in  every 
tense  muscle  of  his  miserable  face.  "  It  is  my 
native  State  !  They  are  my  people  !  I  love 
every  foot  of  ground — I  love  those — "  He  was 
breathing  so  hard  he  stopped  for  a  moment. 
"  That  we  do  not  think  alike — that  they  are 
what  you  call  rebels  to  our  common  country — 
does  not  change  my  love.  I — Mr.  Lincoln " 

The  President  seemed  to  tower  up  to  a  greater 
height  than  even  his  former  gigantic  altitude. 
He  threw  both  arms  out  in  a  sudden  passion  : 
"  Forget  your  love  !  Forget  your  native  State  ! 
Forget  yourself!  Forget  everything  except  that 
this  Union  must  and  shall  be  saved,  and  that  you 
can  hasten  the  end  of  this  awful  carnage ! " 
The  storm  had  swept  over.  He  lowered  his 
voice  again,  and  with  both  hands  on  the  preach 
er's  shoulders :  "  I  will  agree  to  this.  When 
you  have  gone  so  far  that  you  can  come  back 
here  to  rne  and  say,  'I  know  now  that  I  have 
done  enough.  My  conscience  is  clear.  My 
whole  duty  is  done.'  When  you  can  come  back 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  227 

here  and  say  that  to  me — when  you  can  say  (if 
you  and  I  had  changed  places)  that  you  could 
ask  no  more  of  me — then  I  will  agree  to  ask  no 
more  of  you."  Then,  suddenly,  "When  will 
you  start?  To-night?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Griffith,  almost  inaudibly,  and 
sank  into  a  chair. 

Mr.  Lincoln  strode  to  the  table  and  pushed 
aside  the  disfigured  map.  "  I  will  write  your 
instructions  and  make  necessary  plans,"  he  said. 
"  There  is  not  much  to  do.  The  General  and  the 
engineer  corps  are  ready.  I  hoped  and  believed 
you  would  go."  His  pen  flew  over  the  paper. 
Then  he  paused  and  looked  at  his  visitor.  "  We 
must  fix  your  rank.  Will  you  volunteer,  or 
shall  I ?" 

"Is  that  necessary,  Mr.  Lincoln?  I  am  a 

preacher,  you  know.  I Can't  I  go  just 

as  I  am — just — as ?  " 

The  President  had  turned  again  to  the  table, 
and  was  writing.  Griffith  stepped  to  his  side. 

"  Do  you  realize,  Mr.  Lincoln,  that  every 
man,  woman  and  child  in  that  whole  country 
will  recognize  me — and ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know,  I  know.     We  must  do 


228  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

everything  we  can  to  protect  you  from  all  dan 
ger — against  assassination  or " 

"  It  is  not  that"  said  Griffith,  hoarsely.  "  Do 
you  care  nothing  for  the  good-will — for  the  con 
fidence — of  your  old  neighbors  back  in  Illi 
nois?" 

The  stroke  went  directly  home. 

"  Do  I  care  for  it  ? "  There  was  a  long 
pause.  The  sunken  eyes  were  drawn  to  a  mere 
line.  "  I'd  rather  lose  anything  else  in  this 

world.  It  is  meat  and  drink  to  me.  I 

Look  here,  Mr.  Davenport;  don't  make  the 
mistake  of  thinking  that  I  don't  realize  what 
I'm  asking  you  to  do — that  I  don't  see  the  sacri 
fice.  I  do.  I  do,  fully,  and  I  want  to  do 
everything  I  can  to — to  make  it  up  to  you.  I 
know  you  used  to  be  greatly  trusted  and  be 
loved  down  there.  Morton  has  told  me.  He 
told  me  all  about  the  pathos  of  that  old  negro 
following  j^ou,  too,  and  how  you  made  out  to 
keep  her.  I  know,  I  know  it  all,  and  I  wouldn't 
ask  you  if  I  knew  how  to  avoid  it.  I  tell  you 
that  I'd  rather  give  up  everything  else  in  this 
world  than  the  good-will  of  those  old  friends  of 
mine  back  there  in  Illinois  ;  but  if  I  had  to  give 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATftlOT.  229 

up  the  respect  and  confidence  and  love  of  every 
one  of  them,  or  forfeit  that  of  Abraham  Lincoln, 
who  has  sworn  to  sustain  this  Union,  I'd  have 
to  stick  to  old  Abe  !  It  would  go  hard  with  me 
—  harder  than  anything  I  know  of — but  it 
would  have  to  be  done.  We  have  got  to  sustain 
this  Union !  We'll  save  her  with  slavery  at  the 
South  and  with  friends  to  ourselves,  if  we 
can ;  but,  by  the  Eternal !  we'll  save  her  any 
how!" 

He  struck  over  and  over  the  same  chord — the 
Union  must  be  saved.  Every  road  led  back  to 
that  one  point.  Every  argument  hinged  upon 
it.  Every  protest  was  met  by  it.  He  ham 
mered  down  all  other  questions. 

"  If  we  are  Union  men,  this  is  the  time  and 
the  place  to  show  it.  All  other  objects,  mo 
tives,  methods,  private  interests,  tastes,  loves  or 
preferences  must  yield  to  the  supreme  test — 
What  are  we  willing  to  do  to  save  the  Union  ?  " 

Once  he  said : 

"  You  don't  suppose  my  position  is  particu 
larly  agreeable,  do  you  ?  Do  you  fancy  it  is 
easy,  or  to  my  liking?  " 

"  No,  no,  Mr.  President,  of  course  not.     I  un- 


230          AX  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

derstand  that ;  but  you  are  holding  a  public 
office,  and " 

"  So  are  you,"  came  like  a  shot.  "  In  times  like 
this  all  men  Avho  are  or  who  have  been  trusted  by 
their  fellow  men,  are  now,  in  a  sense,  leaders — 
are  in  a  public  position.  Their  influence  is  for  or 
against  this  Union.  There  is  no  neutral  ground. 
I've  already  been  driven  a  good  deal  farther  than 
I  ever  expected  to  have  to  go,  and  it  looks  as  if 
I'd  have  to  jump  several  more  fences  yet ;  but 
you'll  see  me  jump  'em  when  the  time  comes,  or 
I'll  break  my  neck  trying  it !  "  He  wheeled 
back  to  the  table.  "  Here,  why  not  let  me  put 
you  down  as  a  chaplain?  Carry  you  on  the 
rolls  that  way?  It " 

"No,  Mr.  Lincoln,  that  won't  do.  I  won't 
agree  to  that.  If  I  go  it  is  not  as  chaplain.  We 
know  that,  and  there  must  be  no  pretense.  I 
will  not  use  my  ministerial  standing  as  a  cloak. 
I " 

"  You  are  right,  too.  I  wouldn't,  myself. 
Then  you  won't  be  with  any  one  division  long 
at  a  time.  You'll  have  to  transfer  as  the  need 
comes.  Let  me  see — m-m-m " 

"  If  I  do  this  thing  I  will  do  it  outright.     I'll 


Atf  UNOFFICIAL  PATKIOT.  231 

ask  one  thing  of  you — I  don't  want  it  known  ; 
for,  of  course,  none  of  my  friends  can  under 
stand  the  way  you  look  at  it  and  the  way  you 
have  made  me  see  it.  But  when  I  go,  I'll  want 
a  good  horse,  and  I'll  ride  in  the  lead.  I'll  not 
stay  back  as  a  chaplain,  nor  sutler,  nor  as  any 
thing  but  as  what  I  shall  be,  God  help  me  !  a 
guide !  " 

"  Well,  suppose  we  just  call  you  that — Gov 
ernment  Guide.  But  since  it  is  to  be  such  ex 
traordinary  service — so  vital  to  our  cause — we'll 
make  your  pay  extraordinary,  too.  How  does 
a  colonel's  pay  strike  you  ?  " 

Griffith  was  on  his  feet  in  a  flash.  He  stood 
looking  straight  at  the  President,  who  had  not 
turned  as  he  asked  the  question.  The  hands  of 
the  preacher  were  grasping  the  back  of  his 
chair. 

"  On  the  pay-roll,"  began  Mr.  Lincoln,  "  you 
will  appear  as " 

"  Pay-roll !  Pay-roll !  "  burst  from  Griffith, 
and  the  President  turned.  The  expression  of 
the  preacher's  face  was  a  complete  surprise,  but 
the  astute  man  understood  it  instantly.  Grif 
fith  was  moving  toward  the  door.  "Mr. 


232  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Lincoln,  you  do  not  understand  me.  You  have 
mistaken  your  man  !  You — I " 

The  President  had  followed  him  hastily  and 
his  own  hand  reached  the  door  first. 

"  Stop  !  "  he  said  kindly.  "  It  is  you  who  do 
not  understand  me.  I " 

"  I  understood  you  twice  to  say — to  offer  to 
pay  me  to  lead  a  hostile  army — to  take  troops 
into — to  the  homes  of " 

"No,  no,  don't  look  at  it  that  way.  It  is 
right  you  should  have  some — some — rank — 

and "  He  was  going  to  utter  again  the  word 

pay,  but  did  not.  Suddenly  he  thought  of  a 
way  out  of  the  dilemma. 

"  You  see,  it  is  like  this.  You've  got  to  have 
grub — rations.  Now,  we  can't  issue  rations  to 
men  who  don't  exist — ain't  doing  some  sort  of 
service,  don't  y'  see  ?  Then  suppose  you  should 
be  captured.  I  don't  want  to  suppose  any 
thing  of  the  kind,  and  of  course  we've  got  to 
take  every  possible  precaution  against  such  a 
disaster — but  suppose  you  were  captured,  unless 
you  are  recognized  as — unless  you  have  some 
status — we  can't  require  the  rebels  to  treat  you  as 
a  prisoner  of  war  and  exchange  you  for  some 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  233 

officer.  We've  got  to  arrange  so  you  will  be 
treated  as  a  regular,  and  an  important  prisoner 
of  war —  don't  you  see  ?  "  The  dangerous  shoals 
were  being  skilfully  crossed.  The  sagacious 
lawyer  and  reader  of  men  was  retrieving  his 
blunder.  Pie  passed  his  hand  through  Griffith's 
arm,  and  turned  him  from  the  door.  "  That 
was  what  I  meant !  We'll  have  to  carry  you, 
somehow,  on  the  rolls — for  rations  and  things. 
You'll  mess  with  the  General,  of  course,  and 
we'll  see  that  you  have  the  very  best  horse  in 
the  army — you  see,  I  know  the  circuit  rider's 

weakness.     The  fact  is "     He  was  leading 

Griffith  back  to  the  table  where  the  great  disfig 
ured  map  lay — where  he  deftly  slipped  the  paper 
containing  the  half-written  instructions,  upon 
which  the  subject  of  pay  had  been  begun,  under 
its  edge,  took  another  sheet  in  its  stead,  and 
began  anew  with  the  rank  and  the  pay  left  out. 


234  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"Into  the  valley  of  death." — Tennyson. 

IT  was  arranged  that  the  command  with  which 
Griffith  moved  should,  so  far  as  was  possible, 
avoid  collision  with  the  enemy  ;  move  silently, 
swiftly  or  slowly  as  occasion  demanded,  but  at 
all  times  do  everything  possible  to  give  to  the 
topographical  engineers  a  clear,  distinct  and 
minute  knowledge  of  the  country,  so  that  in 
future  intelligent  action  could  be  sustained. 
It  was  thought  wise  to  take  as  few  troops  as 
safety  would  permit,  and,  wherever  knowledge 
of  the  proximity  of  the  Southern  forces  was 
obtained  in  time,  take  some  other  road  or  retire 
temporarily  to  the  seclusion  of  the  mountains. 
All  fighting  was,  if  possible,  to  be  avoided. 
This  was  the  plan  of  operations.  At  times 
they  were  far  inside  the  enemy's  lines,  but 
at  distant  points  from  the  opposing  force. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  235 

At  other  times  they  were  again  camped  for 
a  night  with  some  advance  division  of  the 
federal  troops  farther  northward.  To  those 
to  whom  their  object  was  unknown,  their 
movements  would  have  seemed  unaccountable, 
indeed. 

In  road  or  pass  or  village,  many  a  familiar  face 
did  Griffith  see,  and  his  relief  was  intense,  if  no 
look  of  recognition  came  into  it.  His  fatigue 
coat,  from  which  the  brass  buttons  had  been 
taken,  and  broad-brimmed,  cord-decorated 
military  hat,  served  as  something  of  a  disguise 
with  those  who  had  never  seen  him  in  other 
than  clerical  garb.  Often  a  sharp  pain  shot 
through  his  heart  as  he  rode  through  some  one 
of  his  old  circuits,  and  a  one  time  friendly  face 
looked  up  at  him,  at  first  with  simply  the 
curiosity  and  dislike  bestowed  upon  the  staff 
officers  of  a  hostile  force,  and  then  with  a  sudden 
flash  of  recognition,  there  would  come,  also,  a 
look  of  bitter  personal  resentment,  not  meant 
for  the  staff,  but  for  that  son  of  the  South,  who, 
as  they  felt,  was  betraying  his  friends.  What  his 
position  or  rank  was  they  did  not  know.  His 
uniform  was  that  of  a  civilian,  excepting  only 


236  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  hat ;  but  that  he  was  in  and  with  and  of  the 
invading  army  was  enough.  The  information 
spread  like  wildfire. 

"  Griffith  Davenport  is  with  a  brigade  of 
Yankees !  He  knows  every  inch  of  this 
country  !  "  What  this  meant  to  both  sides,  was 
quickly  understood.  Bitterness  increased.  That 
he  should  be  shot  at  the  first  opportunity  was 
universally  conceded.'  Griffith  saw  and  felt  it 
keenly.  It  made  his  heart  too  heavy  for  words. 
At  first  he  spoke  to  the  General :  "  I  knew  that 
man,  General.  He  recognized  me.  Did  you 
see  how  he  turned  suddenly  to  look  again  ? 
Did  you  see ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  noticed,  and  I  saw  the  look  of  hate, 
damn  him;  but  you  needn't  be  afraid.  The 
first  time  any  assassination  business  is  tried 
they  will  find  who  they  have  got  to  deal  with. 
I'll  burn  every  God-damned  house  I  come  to,  and 
shoot  several  citizens  in  retaliation  !  Oh,  I'm 
not  half  so  mild  as  I  look !  Don't  you  be 
afraid  !  They'll  all  think  hell  has  broke  loose  on 
earth,  if  they  fire  from  ambush  at  you  !  They'll 
have  to  get  you  in  open  battle,  if  they  want 
to  be  treated  with  soldierly  consideration,  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  237 

we  don't  intend  you  to  be  in  any  battle  ;  so  don't 
you  be " 

"  It  is  not  that !  It  is  not  that,  General," 
Griffith  would  say.  He  tried  to  explain. 

"  Well,  heavens  and  earth  !  What  did  you 
expect  ?  You  didn't  expect  'em  to  like  it,  did 
you?" 

Griffith  sighed  and  gave  it  up.  No,  he  did 
not  expect  them  to  like  it.  He  did  not  even 
hope  that  they  could  understand  it  fairly,  and 

yet The  home-coming  was  indeed  bitter,  and 

Griffith  ceased  to  sing.  He  saw  maps  made  of 
the  places  he  loved,  and  he  saw  in  the  distance 
the  peaceful  old  haunts  filled  with  contending 
armies.  He  looked  at  the  trees  that  were  still 
old  and  warm  and  loyal  friends,  in  spite  of  dif 
ference  of  creed  or  politics,  and  he  dreamed  of 
them  when  they  should  be  lopped  of  their 
branches  and  torn  with  shot  and  shell  as  they 
tried  vainly  to  shield  with  their  own  sturdy  limbs 
those  who  knew  no  better  than  to  fight  the 
battles  of  this  life  with  sword  and  gun.  One 
day,  as  he  rode  slowly  in  advance  of  the  rest,  he 
suddenly  looked  up  toward  the  gnarled  branch 
of  a  great  tree,  where  he  recalled  that  an  old 


238  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

friend  of  his  had  lived.  The  heads  of  three 
tiny  squirrels  peeped  out,  and  the  mother  frisked 
hard  by.  "  Ah,"  he  said,  aloud,  "  how  do  you 
do,  Bunnie?  Still  living  at  the  old  home-place, 
I  see  !  Is  it  you  or  your  great-grandchildren  ? 
There's  such  a  strong  family  likeness  I  can't 
tell."  The  little  animal  whisked  nearer,  and 
looked  with  curious  eyes  that  were  not  afraid. 
"  You  do  not  blame  me,  and  you  do  not  hate 
me,  and  you  do  not  fear  me,  Bunnie.  You  un 
derstand  me  better  than  men  do,  after  all."  He 
sighed  and  tossed  a  bit  of  cracker  toward  the 
nest.  It  fell  far  short,  but  the  mother-squirrel 
whisked  about  here  and  there,  and  flipped  her 
tail  and  posed ;  but  at  last  snatched  up  the  prof 
fered  gift  and  scampered  up  the  tree.  Griffith 
smiled. 

"  I've  broken  bread  with  one  of  my  old  friends 
at  last,"  he  said  aloud. 

"  What  did  you  say  ?  "  asked  the  General, 
halting  suddenly.  He  had  lowered  his  voice  to 
the  danger  pitch,  as  he  had  mistaken  Griffith's 
low  tone  for  one  of  caution.  He  lifted  his 
hand,  and  each  of  his  officers  down  the  line  did 
the  same.  There  was  an  instant  halt. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  239 

"What  was  it?"  he  asked  again,  under  his 
breath. 

"  A  nest  of  squirrels  right  where  they  were 
fifteen  or  twenty  years  ago.  I  was  renewing  the 
acquaintance.  They  were  the  first  old  friends 
that  have  not  been  afraid  of — who  trusted  me 
still.  I  was " 

A  volley  of  oaths  burst  forth.  "  Attention  I 
March ! "  he  commanded,  and  as  the  line  officers 
repeated  the  command,  the  General's  wrath 
waxed  furious.  He  did  not  dare  to  wreak  it 
directly  upon  Griffith.  He  dashed  back  down  the 
line,  swearing  with  that  lurid  facility  and  abandon 
for  which  he  was  famous,  at  the  astonished,  but 
case-hardened  and  amused  men. 

"  Halted  an  army  to  talk  to  a  God-damned 
squirrel !  "  he  ground  out  between  his  wrathful 
teeth,  as  he  rejoined  his  staff.  He  whipped  out 
a  revolver  and  fired  at  the  nest.  The  bullet  flew 
wide  of  the  mark,  but  the  little  heads  disap 
peared  in  affright.  The  staff-officers  looked  at 
each  other  and  smiled.  The  contrast  between 
the  two  at  their  head  was  a  source  of  constant, 
mild  fun. 

"  Broken  faith  with  even  you,  haven't  I,  Bun- 


240  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

nie?  "  said  Griffith,  softly,  as  lie  rode  on.  "  Do 
you  think  I  threw  you  the  cracker  so  that  I 
could  the  better  shoot  you  ?  I  didn't,  Bunnie — 
but  you  will  never  know." 

A  half-mile  further  on  Griffith  halted.  "  Gen 
eral,"  he  said,  "  this  is  the  only  place  for  some 
distance  now  that  we  can  halt  for  the  night 
under  cover  of  a  dense  wood  and  still  have  water 
near.  There  is  a  creek  just  below  that  rise.  It 
is  good  water.  It  curves  around  this  way,  and 
the  horses  can  be  picketed  near  it  and  still  be 
hid.  After  this  it  will  be  open  country  for  ten 
miles  or  more.  If " 

"  Halt !  Throw  out  pickets  !  Dismount ! 
Break  ranks ! " 

The  orders  were  given  and  repeated.  The 
appearance  of  a  camp  grew  up  like  magic.  No 
fires  were  to  be  lighted  until  scout  and  picket 
reports  came  in,  but  the  men  went  about  feeding 
their  horses  and  making  ready  for  the  fires  and 
for  "  grub,"  as  they  called  it.  They  were  glad 
to  stretch  themselves.  It  had  been  a  long  day's 
ride. 

"  We  will  signal  from  the  rise  over  there, 
General,"  Griffith  said.  "  If  from  there  we  can 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  241 

see  no  camp-fires,  there  will  be  none  near  enough 
to  detect  ours.  Shall  I  return  here,  General, 

or " 

"  Return  here.  Pick  your  escort." 
Griffith  rode  away  with  his  three  sharpshooters. 
The  tired  men  watched  eagerly  for  the  signal, 
as  they  lay  about  on  the  ground.  A  shout  went 
up  when  they  saw  it,  and  fires  were  lighted  and 
rations  brought  forth.  A  young  fellow  with 
corporal's  straps  was  humming  as  he  lay  on  his 
back  with  both  feet  far  up  on  the  body  of  a  tree. 
He  had  carried  with  him  all  day  an  empty  tin 
can,  and  now  he  was  making  coffee  in  it.  He 
turned  from  time  to  time  to  peer  into  the  can 
or  readjust  the  sticks  as  they  burned. 

"  We're  tenting  to-night  on  the  old  camp-ground." 

His  soft  tenor  rang  out  011  the  cool  evening  air  as 
clear  as  the  note  of  a  bird,  despite  his  recumbent 
position.  He  lifted  himself  on  one  elbow  and 
peered  again  into  the  coffee,  but  the  song  ran 

on — 

"  Give  us  a  song  to  cheer." 

A  group   near  him  was  deep  in  a  game  of 

cards.     "  Here  !     It's  Towsy's  deal !     Damned 
16 


242  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

if  I  don't  believe  Jim  would  deal  every  hand  if 
he  wasn't  watched.     He " 


"  Our  weary  heart,  a  song  of  home- 

"  Oh,  dry  up  !     Give  us  a  rest !  " 
"  Ouch  !     Stop  that !     If  I  don't- 


"  Clubs  again,  by  gad  !  Every  time  Stumpy 
deals,  its  clubs.  I  believe " 

"  And  friends  we  love  so  dear. 
Many  are  the  hearts  that  are  weary  to-night, 
Wishing " 

The  clear  tenor  had  risen  into  steady  con 
tinuity  as  the  young  corporal  sat  half  up  to 
shake  the  tin  can  again.  The  card  dealer 
joined  in  with  a  mocking  bass,  then  suddenly, 
voice  after  voice  took  up  the  refrain  and  the 
very  air  seemed  to  come  laden  with  it,  from  far 
and  near.  The  volume  of  sound  died  with  the 
last  note  of  the  refrain,  and  once  more  the  clear 
tenor,  lying  on  his  back  now,  with  both  hands 
under  his  head,  ran  softly  on  alone  : 

'  We've  been  tenting  to-night  on  the  old  camp-ground. 
Thinking  of  days  gone  by " 

He  drew  a  letter  from  his  breast-pocket,  and,  as 
he  unfolded  it,   stooped   over  and    took    one 


AN   UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  243 

swallow  of  the  coffee,  and  replaced  the  can  on 
the  fire.  Some  hard  tack  lay  beside  him,  and 
one  biscuit  reposed  on  his  stomach  where  he  re 
placed  it  when  he  lay  back  again,  and  finished 
the  verse  slowly.  When  the  refrain  began 
again,  the  cards  were  held  down,  men  in  other 
groups  straightened  up  from  rekindling  fires, 
others  stopped  short  in  a  game  of  quoits  played 
with  horseshoes  picked  up  on  the  banks  of  the 
creek.  Water  carriers  set  down  their  loads,  or 
halted,  with  pails  still  in  hand,  and  added  their 
voices  to  the  melody.  The  effect  amongst  the 
trees  was  indescribable.  The  picket  in  the  dis 
tance  half  halted  in  his  tramp,  and  turned  to 
listen.  The  moon  was  beginning  to  swing  up 
over  the  hill,  from  which  the  signal  had  come, 
and  between  the  trees  it  touched  the  face  of  the 
delicate-featured  young  corporal  of  the  sweet 
voice,  and  he  turned  the  letter  to  catch  the  light 
from  it,  and  add  to  the  glow  of  the  firelight,  that 
he  might  the  better  re-read  the  treasured  words. 
He  was  still  humming  softly,  inarticulately, 
now.  A  stick  burned  in  two,  and  the  can  of 
precious  coffee  was  slowly  emptying  its  over 
turned  contents  on  the  ground. 


244  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT, 

There  was  but  one  bite  gone  from  the  bis 
cuit  which  lay  on  the  blue  coat.  Music  and 
sentiment  had  triumphed  over  appetite  and  the 
young  corporal  dozed  off,  asleep  now  with  the 
letter  still  in  his  hand  and  the  noisy  players 
about  him.  In  the  distance  Griffith  and  his  es 
cort  were  returning.  Suddenly  a  shot  rang 
out  in  the  clear  air !  Then  another  and 
another !  The  men  were  on  their  feet  in  an  in 
stant.  The  General  was  hastily  adjusting  his 
field-glass,  but  in  the  moonlight  it  was  but 
slight  help.  He  could  see,  as  the  smoke 
cleared  away,  six  men  instead  of  four.  So 
much  he  could  make  out,  but  no  more.  One 
was  being  lifted  on  to  a  horse.  All  were  dis 
mounted.  There  was  activity  in  the  camp. 
Hasty  preparations  were  made  to  send  a  relief 
party.  Who  was  shot?  What  did  it  mean? 
Was  there  an  ambush?  Was  the  Guide  de 
ceived  as  to  the  safety  of  this  position  ?  Would 
they  have  to  fight  or  retreat  ?  Had  the  Guide 
been  killed  ?  Had  some  angry  native  seen  and 
assassinated  Griffith  ?  The  officers  consulted 
together  hastily  and  orders  were  given,  but 
the  little  procession  was  slowly  approaching. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  245 

They  were  not  pursued.  At  least  there  was 
not  to  be  a  battle — and  there  had  been  a 
capture,  but  who  was  killed?  The  Government 
Guide  ?  Two  were  walking — were  they  the 
assassin  and  his  companion  ?  When  the  little 
procession  reached  the  picket  line  it  halted  and 
there  was  some  readjustment  of  the  body  they 
were  carrying,  stretched  between  two  horses, 
where  it  lay  motionless  except  as  others  lifted 
it.  Beside  it  walked  another  figure  not  in  the 
federal  uniform.  Tall,  lank,  grim,  and  limping 
painfully,  with  a  blood-stain  on  the  shoulder 
and  a  bullet  hole  in  the  hat.  The  sharp 
shooters  had  done  their  work — but  who  was  it 
— what  was  it  that  lay  across  those  two  horses 
that  they  were  leading  ?  The  whole  camp  was 
watching  and  alert.  Cards,  quoits,  letters  had 
disappeared.  At  last  they  could  see  that  the 
Body  was  not  Griffith.  He  still  sat  astride  his 
splendid  chestnut  horse  and  the  relief  party  were 
talking  to  him.  The  procession  moved  to  the 
General's  tent.  Griffith  looked  pale  and 
troubled.  The  sharpshooters  were  radiant. 
The  Body  was  lifted  down,  and  its  long  pen 
dant  beard  was  matted  and  massed  with  blood. 


246  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

The  pride,  the  joy,  the  ambition  of  Whiskers 
Biggs  was  brought  low  at  last !  He  was  breath 
ing  still,  but  the  feeble  hand  essayed  in  vain  to 
stroke  the  voluminous  ornament  and  ambition 
of  his  life.  The  hand  hung  limp  and  mangled 
by  his  side.  The  General  questioned  the  other 
prisoner  in  vain.  He  pointed  to  Griffith  and 
preserved  an  unbroken  silence.  Griffith  spoke 
to  him  aside.  The  prisoner  turned  slowly  to  the 
commander : 

"I'll  tell  him.  Few  words  comprehend  th' 
whole."  Then  he  lapsed  into  silence  again  and 
nothing  could  induce  him  to  speak.  The 
General  threatened,  coaxed  and  commanded  in 
vain.  The  imperturbable  mountaineer  stood 
like  one  who  heard  not.  All  that  the  sharp 
shooters  could  tell  was  soon  told.  Some  one 
had  fired  from  ambush,  apparently  at  Griffith. 
They  had  returned  the  fire  instantly.  Then 
they  had  found  this  man  who  was  dying  and 
the  other  one  beside  him.  "  I  know  this  man, 
General,"  said  Griffith.  "  He  says  that  he 
will  talk  to  me  alone.  May  I — shall  I " 

"  He'll  talk  to  me,  God  damn  him !  or  he'll 
get  a  dose  of Did  you  fire  at  our  men  ?  r 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT  247 

he  demanded  of  the  mountaineer.  Lengthy 
Patterson  shifted  his  position  to  relieve  his 
wounded  leg.  He  gazed  stolidly,  steadily,  ex- 
pressionlessly  before  him,  and  uttered  not  a 
sound.  His  gun  had  been  taken  from  him,  and 
his  hands  seemed  worse  than  useless  without 
this  his  one  and  only  companion  from  whom  he 
never  separated.  The  hands  moved  about  in 
aimless  action  like  the  claws  of  some  great 
lobster. 

"  It  will  go  a  good  deal  easier  with  you,  you 
infernal  idiot,  if  you'll  out  with  your  stoiy — 
tell  your  side  of  it.  How'd  this  thing1 
happen  ?  " 

Lengthy  glanced  sidewise  at  the  Body  as  it 
lay  on  the  ground.  "  Friend  of  mine,"  he  said, 
and  lapsed  into  silence  again. 

"  Will  you  tell  me,  Lengthy  ?  "  asked  Griffith. 
"Will  you  tell  me  in  the  presence  of  the 
General?  It  would  be  better  for  us  both  if 
you  will.  I  wish " 

"  'Twill  ?  "  asked  Lengthy  giving  Griffith  a 
long,  slow  look.  "  Better  fer  yoh  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Griffith,  half  choking  up.  He 
thought  he  had  solved  the  problem  of  why,  with 


248  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

these  two  mountaineer  marksmen  as  their  an 
tagonists  none  of  their  party  had  been  shot  in 
the  encounter.  "  Yes,  better  for  me.  Do  you 
care  for  that,  Lengthy  ?  "  The  woodsman  gave 
another  long  look  at  Griffith,  and  then  pointed 
with  his  thumb  at  the  figure  on  the  ground. 

"  I  done  hit.  Wins  aimed  t'  kill  yoh.  Few 

words  comp "  Griffith  grasped  the  great 

rough,  helplessly  groping  hands  in  his.  "  I 
thought  so,  I  thought  so,"  he  said  brokenly. 

"  And  you  stood  by  me  even He  was 

your  friend,  and "  Griffith's  voice  broke. 

In  the  pause  that  followed  Lengthy  was  staring 
at  the  form  on  the  ground. 

"  Yes.  Whis  wus  a  frien'  er  mine  ;  but  Wins 
tuck  aim  at  yoh.  Few-words-comprehends-th'- 
whole !  "  The  last  sentence  seemed  to  be  all 
one  word.  Griffith  was  still  holding  the  great 
hands. 

"  Did  you  know  I  was  with  Northern  troops, 
Lengthy  ?  Did  you  know ?  " 

"  Knowed  hit  wus  you.  Didn't  keer  who 
t'other  fellers  wus.  He  tuck  aim.  Seed  whar 
he  wus  pintin' — Few  words " 

"  Are  you  a  Union  man,  Lengthy  ?  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  249 

"  Naw." 

"  Rebel,  are  you  ? "  asked  the  General, 
sharply.  There  was  a  profound  silence.  The 
mountaineer  did  not  even  turn  his  head. 

"  I  asked  you  if  you  were  a  rebel,  God  damn 
you  !  Can't  you  hear  ?  "  shouted  the  General 
thoroughly  angry.  "  I'll  let  you  know " 

"  Are  you  on  the  Confederate  side,  Lengthy  ?  " 
began  Griffith.  The  mountaineer  had  not  in 
dicated  in  any  way  whatever  that  he  had  heard 
any  previous  question.  "  Naw,"  he  said  slowly 
and  as  if  with  a  mental  reservation.  The 
General  shot  forth  a  perfect  volley  of  oaths  and 
questions  and  threats,  but  the  immobility  of 
the  mountaineer  remained  wholly  undisturbed. 
There  was  not  even  the  shadow  of  a  change  of 
expression  on  the  bronzed  face. 

"  What  the  General  wants  to  know — what  / 
want  to  know  is,  Lengthy,  which  side  are  you  on? 
Are  you " 

"  On  yourn." 

"  On  Davenport's  side  against  the  world ! " 
remarked  a  staff  officer  aside,  smiling.  The 
mountaineer  heard.  He  turned  slowly  until  the 
angle  of  his  vision  took  in  the  speaker. 


250  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  On  his  side  agin  the  worl'.    Few  words — 

The  rest  was  drowned  in  a  shout  of  laughter, 
in  which  the  irascible  Commander  joined. 
Griffith's  eyes  filled.  Lengthy  saw — and  misin 
terpreted.  He  forgot  the  wound  in  his  leg,  and 
that  his  trusty  gun  was  his  no  more.  He  sprang 
to  Griffith's  side. 

"  On  his  side  agin  the  hull  o'  yuh  !  "  he  said, 
like  a  tiger  at  bay.  The  sorely  tried  leg  gave 
way  and  he  fell  in  a  heap  at  Griffith's  feet. 

Here !  Quick  !    Get  the  surgeon.     We  for 
got  his  wounds.     He  is   shot  in   the  leg  and 

here "     Griffith  was  easing  the  poor  fellow 

down  as  he  talked,  trying  to  get  him  into  a  better 
position.  Some  one  offered  him  a  canteen. 
The  surgeon  came  and  began  cutting  the  boot 
from  the  swollen  leg. 

"  Do  everything  for  him,  Doctor — everything 
you  would  for  me,"  said  Griffith  hoarsely. 
"  He  killed  his  friend  and  risked  his  own  life 
to  save  me.  He " 

His  voice  broke  and  he  walked  away  into  the 
darkness.  Presently  Lengthy  opened  his  eyes 
and  asked  feebly,  u  Whar's  the  Parson  ?  " 

"Who?" 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  251 

"  Th'  Parson." 

"  Oh,"  said  the  surgeon  kindly,  "  you  want 
the  Chaplain.  Oh,  you're  not  going  to  die  ! 
You're  all  right !  You've  lost  a  lot  of  blood  and 
stood  on  that  leg  too  long,  but " 

"  Whah's  Parson  Dav'npoht  ?  " 

A  light  dawned  upon  the  surgeon.  He  had 
never  thought  of  Griffith  as  a  clergyman  only 
as  he  had  heard  it  laughed  over  that  the  General 
swore  so  continuously  in  his  presence.  He  sent 
for  Griffith.  When  he  came  Lengthy  saw  that 
his  eyes  were  red.  He  motioned  the  others  to 
go  away.  Then  he  whispered,  "  Th'  other  fellers 
— our  soldiers — th' " 

"  You  mean  the  Confederate  troops,  the 
Southern  men  ?  "  asked  Griffith,  and  Lengthy 
nodded;  "Jest  over  yander.  Layin'  fer  ye." 

"  I  looked  everywhere  for  smoke,  Lengthy. 
I  didn't  see  any  signs  of  camp  fires.  I " 

"  Jest  what  me  an'  Whis  was  doin'  fer  t'other 
side  when  we  seed  ye.  Hain't  got  no  fires. 
Hain't  goin'  t'  make  none." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  were  doing  a  sort  of 
scout  or  advance  duty  for  the  reb — the  Confeder 
ates,  when  you  met  us,  Lengthy  ?  " 


252  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  nodded.     "  Jest  thet." 

"  You  were  to  go  back  and  tell  them  about " 

"  We  wus.  Saw  you.  Didn't  go.  Him  'n' 
me  qua'l'd  'bout " 

"  About  shooting  me  ?  " 

Lengthy  nodded  again.  "  He  aimed  at  ye.  I 
got  him  fust."  There  was  a  long  pause. 

"  Do  you  want  to  go  back  to  your  camp, 
Lengthy,  if " 

"  Naw." 

Presently  he  said :  "  They's  mo'  o'  them  then 
they  is  o'  you  alls." 

Griffith  grasped  his  idea.  "You  think  we 
better  leave  here  ?  You  think  they  will  attack  ?  " 

"  Kin  leave  me  layin'  here.  They'll  git  me — 'n' 
him  ;  "  he  pointed  with  his  thumb  again  toward 
the  friend  of  his  life — the  body  that  lay  await 
ing  burial  on  the  morrow. 

"Would  you  rather  go  with  us?"  began 
Griffith,  and  the  swarthy  face  lightened  up. 

"  Kin  you  alls  take  me  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  if  you  want  to  go.  We 
won't  leave  you.  The  General " 

"  Hain't  goin'  with  him.     Goin'  'th  you." 

"All  right,  all  right,  Lengthy.     You  shall  go 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  253 

with  me  and  you  shall  stay  with  me."  The 
mountaineer  turned  his  head  slowly.  The  nar 
cotic  the  surgeon  had  given  was  overcoming 
him.  He  did  not  understand  it,  and  he  was 
vainly  struggling  against  a  sleep  which  he  did 
not  comprehend. 

"  You — alls — better — light — out.  They  is  mo' 
o'  them  and — they — is  mad — plum — through. 
Few — words — com — com ' ' 

The  unaccustomed  effort  at  linguistic  elabora 
tion  exhausted  him,  and,  together  with  the  sleep 
ing  potion,  Lengthy  was  rendered  unconscious  of 
all  pain,  and  an  hour  later  he  was  borne  on  a 
stretcher  between  two  horses  as  the  engineers' 
party  silently  retraced  its  steps  and  left  the  camp 
deserted  and  desolate  with  its  one  silent  occupant 
lying  stark  in  the  moonlight,  with  its  great  mass 
of  matted  beard  upon  its  lifeless  breast. 


254  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

"  At  first  happy  news  came,  in  gay  letters  moiled 
With  my  kisses, — of  camp  life  and  glory." 

Browning. 

THE  fall  and  winter  wore  on.  Spring  was 
near.  Griffith  wrote  to  Katherine  daily  and 
mailed  his  letters  whenever  and  wherever  it  was 
possible.  His  personal  reports  of  progress  went 
with  regularity  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  an  occasional 
note  of  congratulation  or  thanks  or  encourage 
ment  came  to  him  in  reply.  Meantime  the 
Army  of  the  Potomac  did  little  but  wait,  and 
the  armies  of  the  South  and  West  were  active. 
Letters  from  the  boys  came  to  Katherine  with 
irregular  regularity.  Those  from  Howard  were 
always  brief  and  full  of  an  irresponsible  gurgle 
of  fun  and  heroics.  He  had  been  in  two  or  three 
small  fights,  and  wrote  of  them  as  if  he  had  en 
joyed  an  outing  on  a  pleasure  excursion.  He 
said  in  one  that  when  he  was  on  picket  duty  he 
had  "  swapped  lies  and  grub  "  with  the  picket 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  255 

on  the  other  side.  "  He  tried  to  stuff  me  with 
a  lot  of  fiction  about  the  strength  of  their  force 
— said  they  had  not  less  than  ninety  thousand 
men  in  front  of  us  ready  to  lick  us  in  the  morn 
ing.  I  told  him  that  I'd  just  happened  by  acci 
dent  to  hear  our  roll  called,  and  it  took  two  days 
and  a  night  to  read  the  names  of  our  officers 
alone.  He  was  a  crack  liar  but  I  reckon  we  got 
off  about  even.  He  had  the  worst  old  gun  I 
ever  saw.  It  came  out  of  the  ark.  He  admired 
mine,  and  it  was  a  tip-top  Enfield,  but  I  told  him 
it  was  just  an  old  borrowed  thing  (the  last  of 
which  was  true)  and  that  my  own  was  nearly  as 
big  as  fifty  of  it  and  would  shoot  ten  miles.  He 
kicked  at  me  and  laughed,  but  I  didn't  tell  him  I 
was  a  gunner  in  a  battery.  A  battery  is  a  jim- 
dandy  of  a  place.  I  get  to  ride  all  the  time. 
That  suits  me  right  down  to  the  ground.  I 
haven't  had  a  scratch  yet  and  I'm  not  afraid  I'll 
get  one."  His  letters  rattled  on  in  some  such  fash 
ion  whenever  he  remembered  or  exerted  himself 
enough  to  write  at  all.  They  developed  in  slang 
as  the  months  went  by,  and  Katherine  smiled 
and  sighed. 

Beverly's  letters  kept  up  their  old  tone,  and 


256  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

he  tried  in  every  way  he  could  think  of,  to 
cheer  his  mother.  He  had  wholly  recovered, 
he  said,  from  his  wounds,  and  was  now  with 
Grant  in  Tennessee.  He  described  the  long 
moss  on  the  trees,  and  wrote  :  "  We  are  moving 
now  toward  Corinth.  That  is  the  objective 
point.  I  was  transferred  a  month  ago  to  Grant's 
army, -and  so,  unless  Roy  has  been  transferred 
since  you  wrote  me  last,  I'll  get  to  see  him  in  a 
few  days,  I  hope.  That  will  be  good.  It  seems 
as  if  we  boys  had  traveled  a  pretty  long  road 
in  the  matter  of  age  and  experience  since  we 
were  at  home  together.  I'm  glad  to  hear  of 
Roy's  promotion — the  handsome  fellow  !  And 
so  it  was  for  conspicuous  bravery  at  Fort  Donald 
son,  was  it  ?  Good  !  Good  !  Ah,  we  can  be 
proud  of  Roy,  mother.  And  he  got  only  a  little 
flesh-wound  in  it  all,  and  did  not  have  to  go  to 
the  hospital  at  all !  What  lucky  dogs  we  boys 
are,  to  be  sure.  I  hope  father  is  home  with 
you  by  this  time.  Of  course,  I  understand  the 
ominous  silence  and  inaction  in  Virginia — in  the 
army  of  the  Potomac — as  only  a  few  of  us  can. 
But  I  do  hope  that  father  will  do  all  the  Presi 
dent  asked  of  Mm,  and  get  home  before  they 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  257 

undertake  to  act  upon  the  information  he  is  en 
abling  them  to  gather.  Yes,  yes,  mother,  I  know 
how  terribly  hard  he  took  it,  and  how  silently 
heroic  he  is  and  will  be,  God  bless  him  !  But 
after  all,  mother  mine,  your  partis  about  the  hard 
est  of  all  to  bear.  I  think  of  that  more  and  more  ! 
To  sit  and  wait !  To  silently  sit  and  wait  for 
you  know  not  what.  To  take  no  active  part ! 
Oh,  the  heroic  patience  and  endurance  that  must 
take  !  But  don't  worry  about  us.  The  fact  is 
that  we  are  not  in  half  so  much  danger  as  you 
think.  When  one  comes  to  know  how  few, 
after  all,  of  the  millions  of  rounds  of  ammunition 
that  are  fired,  ever  find  their  mark  in  human 
flesh,  one  can  face  them  pretty  courageously. 
We  were  talking  it  over  in  camp  the  other  day — 
a  lot  of  the  officers.  I  really  had  had  no  idea 
what  a  safe  place  a  battle-field  is.  It  seems  that 
out  of  7260  balls  fired,  only  ten  hit  anybody,  and 
only  one  of  those  are  serious  or  fatal !  Just  look 
at  the  chances  a  fellow  has.  Why  he  doesn't  seem 
to  be  in  much  more  danger  than  he  is  that  a 
brick  will  fall  on  him  as  he  walks  the  streets, 
or  that  he'll  slip  and  break  his  neck  on  the  ice. 

Doesn't  seem  so  very  dangerous,  now,  does  it, 
17 


258  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

mother  ?  Now,  I  want  you  to  remember  those 
figures,  for  they  are  correct.  Then  you  remem 
ber  that  I  got  my  three — which  is  more  than  my 
share  of  balls,  in  the  very  first  fight  I  was  in ; 
so  you  see  I'm  not  likely  to  get  any  more.  Roy 
had  one,  so  his  chance  to  catch  any  more  is  poor  ; 
and  as  for  Howard — well,  somehow  or  other,  I 
never  feel  the  least  anxiety  about  Howard. 
He'd  pull  through  a  knot-hole  if  the  knot  was 
still  in  it.  He  is  so  irresistibly,  irresponsibly, 
recklessly  indifferent.  But  at  all  events, 
mother,  don't  worry  too  much.  My  only  anx 
iety,  now,  is  to  hear  that  father  is  at  home 
again ;  both  for  your  sake  and  for  his.  Ye 
gods  !  what  a  terrific  sacrifice  the  President 
demanded  of  him !  And  what  a  stubborn 
heroism  it  has  taken  to  make  father  do  it, — with 
his  temperament  and  feelings, — a  heroism  and 
patriotism  beyond  even  the  comprehension  of 
most  men.  Give  little  Margaret  the  enclosed 
note,  please.  I  don't  know  that  she  can  read  it, 
but  I  wrote  it  as  plain  as  I  could  on  this  shingle. 
We  are  moving  pretty  steadily  now.  We  stopped 
to-day,  to  let  the  supplies  catch  up.  We  start 
again  in  an  hour  or  so.  We  are  all  ready  now. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  259 

I  never  cease  to  be  glad  that  you  have  old  aunt 
Judy,  and  that  she  continues  such  a  comfort, 
— and  trial.  Give  her  my  love,  and  tell  the  gentle 
and  buxom  Rosanna,  that  if  she  were  in  this 
part  of  the  country  she'd  'see  the  loikes  av 
me '  at  every  turn.  Soldiers  are  thicker  than 
peas  in  a  pod,  and  she'd  not  have  '  to  go  fur  t' 
foind  the  loikes  av  me '  multiplied  by  ten  thou 
sand,  all  of  whom  '  become  their  soger  close  ' 
quite  as  truly  as  did  the  undersigned  when  the 
admiration  of  Rosanna  for  me  blossomed  forth  in 
such  eloquence  and  elaboration  of  diction.  This 
seems  rather  a  frivolous  letter ;  but  I  want  you 
to  keep  up  good  heart,  little  mother.  It  won't — 
it  can't — last  much  longer,  and  just  as  soon  as 
father  gets  home,  I,  for  one,  shall  feel  quite  easy 
again.  I  hope  he  is  there  by  this  time,  with  his 
part  all  done.  The  last  letter  I  got  from  him, 
lie  thought  it  would  not  take  much  longer  to 
do  all  they  expected  him  to  do,  now.  Dear 
old  father !  His  last  letter  to  me  was  an  in 
spiration  and  a  sermon,  in  living  (as  he  is), 
without  the  least  bit  of  preaching  in  it.  He 
doesn't  need  to  preach.  He  lives  far  better 
than  any  creed  or  than  any  religion ;  but " 


260  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Katherine  broke  off  and  pondered.  Was  Bev 
erly  still  reading  Thomas  Paine  ?  If  he  were 
to  be  killed  !  What  did  he  believe  ?  "  Lives 
far  better  than  any  creed  or  than  any  religion," 
what  did  he  mean  ?  Had  Beverly  become 
openly  an  unbeliever  in  creeds  and  religions  ? 
The  thought  almost  froze  her  blood.  She  fell 
upon  her  knees  and  wept  and  prayed — not  for 
her  son's  life  to  be  spared  from  the  bullets 
of  the  enemy,  as  was  her  habit,  but  that  the 
'shafts  of  the  destroyer  "  might  spare  his  soul ! 
Her  cup  of  anxiety  and  sorrow  was  embittered 
and  made  to  overflow  by  the  sincerity  of  a 
belief  which  was  so  simple,  and  knew  so  little  of 
evasion,  that  the  bottomless  pit  did,  indeed, 
yawn  before  her  for  this  son  of  her  youth. 

"  Save  him  !  save  him ! "  she  moaned  aloud, 
"if  not  from  death,  at  least  from  destruction, 
oh,  God  of  my  salvation !  " 

The  terrors  which  should  follow  unbelief  had 
been  long  ago,  in  her  rigid  Presbyterian  home, 
made  so  much  a  part  of  her  very  nature,  that 
the  simple,  cheerful,  happy  side  of  Griffith's 
religion,  which  had  been  uppermost  all  these 
years,  had  not  even  yet,  in  cases  of  unusual  stress, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  261 

obliterated  the  horror  of  Katherine's  literal  belief 
in  and  fear  of  an  awful  hell,  and  a  vengeance- 
visiting  God  for  those  who  slighted  or  ques 
tioned  the  justice  or  truth  of  a  cruel  revelation 
of  Him.  A  great  and  haunting  fear  for  Bev 
erly's  soul  eclipsed  her  fear  for  his  life,  and 
Katherine's  religion  added  terrors  to  the  war 
that  were  more  real  and  dark  and  fearful  than 
the  real  horrors  that  are  a  natural  and  legiti 
mate  part  of  a  cruel,  civil  contest.  The  "  com 
forts,"  to  a  loving  heart  and  a  clear  head,  of 
such  a  religion,  were  vague  and  shadowy ;  in 
deed.  Its  certain  and  awful  threats  were  like  a 
flaming  sword  of  wrath  ever  before  her  eyes. 
To  those  who  could  evade  the  personal  applica 
tion  of  the  tenets  of  their  faith,  who  could  ac 
cept  or  reject  at  will  the  doctrines  they  pro 
fessed,  who  could  wear  as  an  easy  garment  the 
parts  they  liked,  and  slip  from  their  shoulders 
the  features  of  their  "  revelation  "  to  which  the 
condition  of  their  own  loved  ones  did  not  re 
spond,  there  might  be  comfort.  But  to  Kath- 
erine  there  was  none.  Her  faith  was  so  real 
and  firm,  that  it  did  not  doubt  a  literal  damna 
tion,  nor  could  she  read  from  under  the  decree 


1:02  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

those  she  loved,  simply  because  she  loved  them. 
An  eternal  decree  of  suffering  hung  over  her 
first-born,  the  idol  of  her  soul!  The  awful 
burden  of  her  religion  was  almost  more  than 
she  could  bear  in  these  days  of  fear  and  loneli 
ness,  stimulated  as  it  was  by  the  ever-present 
threat  and  shadow  of  death  for  the  lamb  that 
had  strayed,  even  so  little,  from  the  orthodox 
fold.  Her  days  were  doubly  burdened  by  the 
new  anxiety,  shadowed  by  the  real,  and  haunt 
ed  by  the  agony  of  fear  for  the  imaginary, 
danger  to  her  son.  In  her  dreams,  that  night, 
she  saw  him  stand  before  an  angry  and  aveng 
ing  God,  and  she  awoke  in  a  very  panic  of 
delirium  and  mental  anguish.  Great  beads  of 
moisture  stood  upon  her  brow.  "  Save  him  ! 
save  him  !  oh,  God  of  our  salvation  !  "  she  cried 
out,  and  little  Margaret  stirred  uneasily  in  her 
bed. 

"  Wat  dat,  honey  ?  Wat  dat  yoh  say,  Mis' 
Kate !  "  called  out  Judy  from  her  cot  in  the 
next  room.  "  Did  yoh  call  me,  Mis'  Kate  ?  " 

"No,  no,  aunt  Judy,  I  had  a  bad  dream. 
j " 

The  old  woman  hobbled  in.     "  Now,  des  look 


AN  VNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.          263 

aheah,  honey,  des  yoh  stop  that  kine  er  dreams, 
now.  Dey  ain't  no  uste  t'  nobody,  an'  dey  des 
makes  bad  wuk  all  de  way  'roun'.  An'  'sides 
dat  dey  ain't  got  no  sense  to  'em,  nohow." 
Poor  old  aunt  Judy,  her  philosophy  was  deeper 
and  truer  than  she  knew  or  than  her  mistress 
suspected  ;  but  the  sound  of  her  kind  old  voice 
comforted  Katherine  as  no  philosophy  could. 

"  Dar  now,  honey,  yoh  des  lay  right  down  dar 
'n'  go  to  sleep  agin.  Yoah  ole  aunt  Judy  des 
gwine  ter  stay  right  heah  twell  yoah  skeer  gits 
gone.  Dar  now,  dar  now,  honey,  dem  kine  er 
dreams  is  all  foolishness.  Dey  is  dat !  Now,  I 
gwine  ter  set  heah  an'  yoh  des  whorl  in  an'  dream 
sompin'  good  'bout  Mos  Grif,  dat's  what  you 
do !  Aunt  Judy  gwine  ter  set  right  heah  by  de 
bed.  Dar  now,  honey !  Dar  now,  go  sleep." 


264  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

"  Into  the  jaws  of  death, 
Into  the  mouth  of  hell." 

Tennyson. 

IT  had  rained  in  torrents.  The  stiff  clay  of 
the  muddy  roads  was  ankle  deep.  Roy's  regi 
ment  in  camp  near  the  Tennessee  river  was 
whiling  away  its  time  as  best  it  could.  It 
was  generally  understood  that  they  were  to  be 
joined  in  a  day  or  two  by  reinforcements,  and 
then  march  on  to  Corinth.  Roy  knew  that 
Beverly  was  to  be  with  the  expected  command. 
The  young  lieutenant — a  first  lieutenant  now — 
was  proud  and  eager.  He  thought  it  would  be 
a  fine  thing  for  him  and  Beverly  to  fight  side 
by  side.  He  meant  to  show  Beverly  that  he 
was  no  longer  a  boy.  A  soft  silken  mustache 
had  come  to  accent  his  fresh  complexion,  and 
he  was  as  handsome  and  tall  and  graceful  and 
erect  as  a  young  soldier  need  be.  He  carried 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  265 

himself  with  peculiar  grace,  and  he  was  an  inch 
taller  than  Beverly,  now.  He  hoped  that  he 
would  be  taller  than  his  brother,  and  he  walked 
very  erect,  indeed,  as  he  thought  about  it. 
Then  he  smiled  to  himself  and  said  half  aloud, 
"  He  will  be  here  to-morrow,  and  I  shall  give  him 
a  great  welcome — and  a  surprise."  This  was  his 
last  thought  as  he  turned  on  his  side,  and  fell  into 
a  soldier's  dreamless  sleep,  in  spite  of  rain  and 
mud,  in  spite  of  noise  and  confusion,  in  spite  of 
danger  and  anxiety. 

It  was  the  night  of  the  fifth  of  April.  Roy 
had  planned  to  appear  very  splendid  to  his 
brother  on  the  morrow.  He  had  shaved  freshly 
and  brushed  his  uniform,  and  rubbed  up  his  new 
shoulder  straps.  His  sword  was  burnished,  and 
the  boy  had  smiled  to  himself  many  times  as  he 
worked  over  these  details,  to  think  how  vain  he 
was,  and  how  anxious  that  Beverly  should  look 
pleased  and  proud  when  he  should  see  him  at 
his  best.  He  seemed  to  have  slept  only  a  little 
while  when  there  straggled  into  his  conscious 
ness  the  sound  of  a  shot,  then  another  and  an 
other;  then  a  sudden  indescribable  noise  and  con 
fusion  roused  him  wholly.  He  sprang  to  his  feet. 


266  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

The  gray  of  the  dawning  day  was  here.  Bugles 
were  sounding.  Confusion,  noise,  action  was  on 
all  sides.  The  camp  had  been  surprised  !  The 
enemy  was  upon  them !  Grape,  canister  and 
Enfield  balls  tore  through  the  tents.  Shells 
burst ;  the  first  vision  that  met  his  eyes  as  he 
rushed  forth,  was  a  horse  of  one  of  their  own 
batteries,  struggling,  moaning,  whinnying  piti 
fully  with  both  fore-legs  torn  away,  and  the 
cannon  half  overturned.  An  onrushing  force  of 
Confederates  shouting  in  triumph.  As  his  own 
regiment  tried  to  form  in  line,  three  terrified 
horses  tore  past  dragging  their  fellow,  and  what 
was  left  of  the  dismantled  cannon.  They  were 
wounding  each  other  cruelly  in  their  mad 
frenzy  of  pain  and  fright.  They  fell  in  one 
mass  of  struggling,  suffering,  panic-stricken  flesh 
into  the  river  and  drowned,  with  their  harness 
binding  them  together,  and  to  the  wreck  of  their 
dismantled  burden.  Everything  was  confusion. 
Each  regiment  was  doing  its  best  to  form  and 
repulse  the  terrible  onslaught.  The  surprise 
had  been  complete.  The  scouts  had  been  sur 
rounded  and  captured,  and  the  pickets  killed  or 
driven  in  at  the  first  charge  which  had  awakened 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  267 

the  sleeping  camp.     The  horrors,  the  disasters 
and  the  triumphs  of  Shiloh  had  begun ! 

There  was  no  time  to  think.  Action,  alone, 
was  possible — the  intuitive  action  of  the  soldier. 
The  men  formed  as  best  they  could,  and  fought 
as  they  fell  back,  or  as  they  advanced  a  step, 
with  dogged  determination  to  retrieve  lost 
ground.  Some  were  driven  into  the  river,  and 
when  wounded,  fell  beneath  its  waves  to  rise  no 
more.  The  intrepid  Confederates  followed  up 
their  first  dash  with  persistent  determination,  in 
spite  of  the  forced  march  which  had  preceded 
the  surprise,  and  in  spite  of  hunger  and  un 
certainty  when  their  supplies  might  come. 
They  aimed  at  nothing  short  of  capture.  Then 
supplies  would  be  theirs  without  delay.  But 
every  foot  of  ground  was  being  stubbornly  con 
tested.  Now  a  gain  was  made,  now  a  loss.  Both 
sides  were  fighting  with  that  desperation  which 
makes  certain  only  one  thing  as  the  issue  of  the 
battle — the  certainty  of  an  awful  carnage.  At 
such  a  time  it  does  not  seem  possible,  and  yet  it 
is  true,  that  a  sense  of  reckless  humor  finds  place 
and  material  to  feed  its  fancy.  A  good-natured 
badinage  held  possession  of  many  of  the  men. 


268  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Roy's  regiment  had  been  driven  back  by  the 
first  sudden  onrush.  It  had  formed  and  fought 
as  it  went,  but  it  had  undoubtedly  been  forced 
from  its  position  of  advantage  on  the  rise  of  the 
hill.  They  were  struggling  desperately  to 
regain  it.  Every  man  seemed  determined  to 
stand  again  where  he  had  stood  an  hour  before 
or  die  in  the  attempt.  A  large  piece  of  paper 
pinned  to  a  tree  with  a  bayonet,  attracted  Roy's 
attention  as  the  smoke  was  lifted  for  a  moment, 
while  they  pushed  forward  inch  by  inch.  The 
boys  had  seen  its  like  before.  They  understood 
and  it  acted  like  a  stimulant  upon  them.  Some 
of  the  boys  laughed  outright.  The  smoke  hid  the 
paper.  The  next  volley  had  driven  the  Confed 
erates  a  step  farther  back.  The  ground  was 
strewn  with  their  men,  lying  side  by  side  with 
those  who  had  fallen  from  the  Northern  ranks 
at  the  first  dash  of  the  enemy.  The  tree  with 
the  paper  was  a  trifle  nearer. 

"  Charge  for  that  challenge,  boys  !  Charge !  " 
shouted  Roy,  and  they  responded  with  a  yell 
and  a  murderous  volley  as  they  ran.  It  was 
almost  within  reach  now,  but  the  men  who  had 
posted  it  fought  like  tigers  to  hold  their  ground. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  269 

"  We'll  get  it,  boys  !  We'll  get  it !  "  rang  out 
with  the  roar  of  the  battle.  At  last  the  tree 
was  only  a  few  feet  away.  A  private  dashed 
out  of  the  line,  and  grasped  the  bayonet  that 
held  the  coveted  paper  and  swung  it  aloft.  The 
challenge  was  captured !  Even  the  boys  who 
lay  on  the  ground  joined  in  the  triumphal  shout 
and  one  of  them  volunteered  to  reply.  He  had 
a  good  arm  left !  He  took  a  pencil  from  his 
breast  pocket,  and  turned  his  body  painfully, 
slowly,  so  that  he  could  write.  The  stock  of 
his  gun  was  desk  enough.  He  read  the  captured 

paper   and  laughed.      "  The La.   presents 

its  compliments  to  the Ind.,  and  intends  to 

thrash  it  out  of  its  boots — as  usual." 

The  wounded  man  turned  the  paper  over  and 

wrote  :   "  The Ind.  returns  its  compliments 

to  the La.  and  expresses  a  desire  to  see  it 

accomplish  the  job."  He  was  so  near  to  the  tree 
that  he  thought  he  could  drag  himself  to  it  and 
post  up  the  reply  on  the  far  side,  but  his  legs 
were  numb  and  helpless,  and  the  pain  of  drag 
ging  himself  on  hands  and  hips  conquered  him. 
He  looked  all  about  him.  The  ambulance 
workers  had  come,  not  far  away,  to  carry  off  the 


270  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

wounded.  One  came  near  and  offered  to  help 
him. 

"  Pin  that  paper  to  the  far  side  of  that  tree, 
first,"  he  said,  with  a  grim  smile.  "  I'll  wait." 

The  man  refused,  but  the  wounded  fellow 
essaying  to  drag  himself  toward  it  again,  he 
yielded,  and  the  return  challenge  was  posted. 

Two  hours  later  its  work  was  done.  The 

La.  held  the  hill  again  !  A  laughing  shout  went 
up.  It  might  have  been  a  warmly  contested 
game  of  football,  so  free  from  malice  was  it. 

All  over  the  great  battle-field  the  work  of  the 
day  was  back  and  forth  over  the  same  bloody 
and  trampled  ground.  The  mud  of  the  morning 
took  on  another  tinge  of  red,  and  the  mingled 
blood  of  the  gallant  fellows  who  gave  their 
lives  for  the  side  they  had  espoused  made  hid 
eous  mortar  of  the  ghastly  sacrifice.  The  river 
ran  on  its  way  to  the  sea,  floating  the  costliest 
driftwood  ever  cast  by  man  as  an  offering  to  his 
own  passions,  mistakes,  and  ambitions  ;  a  drift 
wood  pale  and  ghastly,  clad  in  gray  or  in  blue, 
and  scattering  from  Maine  to  Texas,  from 
ocean  to  ocean,  the  sorrow  that  travels  in  the 
wake  of  war,  the  anguish  of  those  who  silently 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  271 

wait  by  the  fireside,  for  the  step  that  will 
never  come,  for  the  voice  that  is  silent  forever ! 
Ah,  the  ghastliness  of  war  !  Ah,  the  costliness 
of  war  !  It  is  those  who  do  not  fight  who  pay 
the  heaviest  debt  and  find  its  glory  ashes  ! 

On  the  hill  was  the  rivalry  of  the  challenge. 
It  gave  grim  humor  to  the  contest.  Three  chal 
lenges  were  taken,  and  three  replaced,  before 
the  sunset  brought  that  suspension  of  effort 
which  left  the  hill,  the  tree,  and  the  final  glory 
of  the  day  in  the  hands  of  the  Confederates. 
The  drawn  battle  was  over  for  the  night,  but 
the  trend  of  the  victory  was  southward,  and  the 
heavens  once  more  deluged  the  dead  and  dying 
with  the  pitiless  downpour  of  chilling  rain  all 
the  night  long.  In  the  northern  camp  the  tired 
men  slept  in  spite  of  rain  and  mud  and  distant 
cannonading.  With  the  slain  beside  them,  the 
groans  of  the  dying  about  them,  the  echo  of  the 
conflict  in  their  ears,  the  promise  of  the  struggle 
of  the  morrow,  still  the  tired  men  slept!  In 
the  Confederate  camp  sleep  was  impossible.  The 
Federal  relief  boats  had  come !  To-morrow  fresh 
men  would  fill  the  Northern  ranks.  Meantime 
the  thunder  of  the  great  gunboats  continued  the 


272  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

unequal  contest.  Shot  and  shell  fell  with  the 
rain  into  the  Confederate  camp.  All  night  the 
bombardment  went  on.  The  river  was  tinged 
with  red,  the  heavens  kept  up  the  old  refrain 
and  wept  for  the  sins,  the  mistakes,  the  cruelties 
of  men,  and  still  the  tired  soldiers  slept  and 
waited  for  the  morrow — and  what?  There 
would  be  no  more  surprises  at  least.  Both  under 
stood  now  that  it  was  a  stubborn  fight.  Both 
knew  that  the  reinforcements  were  here  for  the 
Federal  troops.  Pickets  and  scouts  were  wide 
awake  now ;  no  danger  of  another  surprise.  All 
night  the  relief  corps  worked.  All  night  the 
distant  echoes  from  the  gunboats  brought  hope 
to  the  one  and  desperation  to  the  other  army. 
All  night  the  surgeons  labored.  All  night 
stragglers  came  in  dragging  wounded  limbs. 
All  night  suffering  horses  neighed  and  whinnied 
and  struggled  and  at  last  died  from  loss  of  blood 
— and  still  men  slept !  Ah,  the  blessed  oblivion 
and  relief  of  sleep  !  If  to-morrow's  action  must 
come,  then  to-night  nature  must  restore  the 
wasted  energy,  and  repair  the  deathly  exhaus 
tion, — and  men  slept !  Soaked  through  with 
rain,  begrimed  with  smoke  and  with  mud, 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  273 

assailed  with  groans  and  with  that  insidious  foe 
of  rest,  uncertainty,  still  men  slept,  soundly, 
profoundly,  dreamlessly ! 

The  first  gray  streak  of  dawn  brought  a  bugle 
call :  another,  another.  The  clouds  were  clear 
ing  away.  Nature  was  preparing  to  witness 
another  and  more  desperate  struggle.  The 
dreamless  sleep,  that  had  refused  to  yield  to 
hunger,  pain,  uproar  or  anxiety,  yielded  at  the 
first  note  of  the  reveille.  Every  man  was  awake, 
alert,  active.  The  rain  and  action-stiffened 
limbs  were  ready  for  duty  again.  The  seventh 
of  April  had  dawned.  Reinforcements  would 
soon  land ;  but  the  battle  was  on  before  they 
could  disembark.  The  Confederates,  flushed 
with  the  advantage  of  the  day  before,  were 
determined  to  overwhelm  even  the  new  force. 
The  battle  was  on.  Roy,  the  spruce,  trim, 
handsome  young  lieutenant  of  the  day  before, 
waiting  for  his  brother  with  proud,  brotherly 
anxiety,  was  a  sorry  sight  to-day,  but  that  did 
not  trouble  him.  His  new  shoulder-straps 
were  tarnished,  his  sword  was  marked  with 
an  ugly  red  stain,  his  freshly  brushed  uni 
form  was  bespattered  and  wrinkled  and  wet, 
18 


274  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

mud-covered  and  torn  ;  but  he  was  unhurt  save 
for  the  track  of  a  Minie  ball  under  the  skin  of 
his  left  arm.  To  that  he  gave  no  heed.  A 
plaster  of  the  pottery  clay,  self-applied,  had 
taken  the  soreness  almost  away,  and  as  Roy 
stood  at  the  head  of  his  company  to-day  and  took 
the  place  of  the  captain,  who  would  respond  to 
roll-call  no  more,  he  was  wondering  if  Beverly 
would  be  with  the  troops  that  would  land,  and 
if  they  would  help  save  the  day.  He  hoped 
that  Beverly  would  be  there,  and  yet — after  the 
sights  and  experiences  of  yesterday — did  he 
hope  that  Beverly  would  be  there  ?  Beverly 
might  be  killed !  He  had  not  thought  of  that 
the  day  before,  nor  had  it  troubled  him  for  him 
self  ;  but  as  he  looked  about  him  now  or  bent  to 
see  if  an  old  comrade  were  really  dead,  or  only 
unconscious,  he  somehow  felt  glad  that  Beverly 
had  not  been  there  the  day  before.  Ah,  these 
hearts  of  ours  ! — these  hearts  of  ours  !  What 
tricks  they  play  us  !  What  cowards  they  make 
of  us  !  What  selfishness  they  breed  in  us  ! 
For  ourselves  we  can  be  brave,  defiant,  even 
jocose,  in  the  midst  of  danger  or  of  sorrow ;  but 
for  those  we  love  !  Ah,  for  those  we  love,  our 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  275 

philosophy  is  scant  comfort,  our  courage  is  un 
dermined  before  it  is  tested,  and  we  are  helpless 
in  the  face  of  Love.  We  can  walk  bravely 
enough  into  the  mouth  of  a  cannon,  but  Love 
disarms  us,  and  we  cry  for  mercy  where  we  did 
not  shrink  from  death  I 

Roy  wondered  how  much  Beverly  knew  of 
the  battle,  and  if  his  heart  was  anxious,  also. 
He  knew  Beverly's  division  was  expected,  but 
he  thought  as  he  fought,  "  I  reckon  I'd  just  as 
lieve  Beverly  shouldn't  be  with  them.  If  he 
were  on  sick  leave  or — or — something."  He 
felt  a  little  sense  of  shame  for  the  thought,  and 
fought  the  more  determinedly  because  of  it.  The 
gallant  Confederates  were  flushed  by  their  gain 
of  the  day  before.  No  one  would  have  dreamed 
that  they  were  exhausted  by  a  long  march  be 
fore  the  surprise.  No  one  would  have  dreamed 
that  they  were  hungry,  and  that  their  supply- 
wagons  had  not  come  up  until  long  after  the 
struggle.  No  one  would  have  dreamed  that 
they  had  been  kept  up  all  night  by  the  bom 
bardment  from  the  distant  gunboats.  No  one 
would  have  dreamed  that  out  of  that  intrepid 
Louisiana,  with  its  challenge  again  on  the 


276  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

tree  there,  would  never  muster  again  over  three 
hundred  and  twenty-seven  of  the  six  hundred 
merry  fellows  who  flung  themselves  up  that 
hill  only  twelve  short  hours  ago ! 

"  Our  side  bet  is  up,  boys,  by  the  jumping 
jingo  ! "  said  one  of  the  relieved  pickets  the 
first  thing  in  the  morning.  "  It  is  written  on  a 
slab  this  time.  I  don't  know  when  they  got  it 
up.  I  laid  for  it  all  night,  and  was  going  to 
pick  the  fellow  off  who  came  out  to  that  tree, 
but  it  was  darker  than  a  pile  of  coke  last 
night,  and,  if  hell  ever  saw  such  a  rain  before, 
the  fires  must  all  be  out — soaked  through. 
Don't  believe  there  is  a  dry  spot  in  the  devil's 
domain  to-day.  Whew !  Look  at  my  boots  ! 
I  had  to  stop  and  scrape  the  mud  off  every  four 
steps  all  night  long.  My  feet  were  as  big  as  a 
horse's  head — and  it's  mighty  good  Bible  mud, 
too — sticketh  closer  than  a  brother." 

The  boys  had  laughed  and  agreed  that  they 
would  get  the  new  challenge  somehow.  The 
news  that  it  was  up  again,  and  on  a  substan 
tial  slab,  which  seemed  to  aggravate  the  offense 
in  some  inexplicable  way,  spread  and  aroused 
the  young  fellows  anew.  They  would  have 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  277 

that  slab  or  die  in  the  attempt.  The  side  bet, 
as  they  called  it,  must  be  won.  They  were 
making  straight  for  it,  and  the  Confederates 
were  holding  their  position  with  grim  and 
dogged  determination.  A  sudden  onrush  of 
fresh,  eager,  rested,  enthusiastic  men,  yelling  as 
they  came  from  the  gunboats,  dashed  from  the 
steamboat  landing  and  flung  themselves  against 
the  lines.  The  relief  had  come !  Regiment 
after  regiment  dashed  past.  Every  new  one 
was  felt  like  a  blast  of  cold  wind  in  the  face  of 
a  belated  traveler.  The  Confederate  lines  wav 
ered,  broke,  rallied,  retreated,  reformed.  More 
fresh  troops  came  and  swept  past  like  fire  in  a 
field  of  grain.  Discouraged  men  felt  the  brac 
ing  influence  and  stimulant  on  the  one  side. 
On  the  other,  it  seemed  that  at  last  the  billows 
of  the  ocean  had  broken  upon  them,  and  they 
must  yield  or  be  forever  overwhelmed.  As 
each  new  regiment  came  up,  with  its  shout  and 
wild,  eager  dash  in  the  face  of  the  enemy,  the 
ground  was  being  gathered  in  like  thread  on  a 
great  spool  as  it  revolves.  Inch  by  inch  the 
line  yielded.  The  river  was  left  behind,  with 
its  horrible  secret,  to  keep  its  bloody  tryst  with 


278  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

the  sea ;  to  carry  its  drift  of  gallant  men,  who 
would,  alas,  be  gallant  no  more,  on  the  infinite 
wanderings  of  its  waves,  as  they  ran  and 
struggled  in  vain  to  leave  behind  the  memory 
and  the  burden  of  the  pitiless  struggle  and  car 
nage — the  relics  of  man's  power  and  courage 
and  savagery,  to  do  and  to  die  by  and  for  his 
fellow-man,  that  he  may  adjust  differences  he 
himself  has  raised  from  the  infinite  depths  of  his 
own  ignorance — from  the  blindness  of  his  be 
nighted  past !  And  still  the  river  ran  on  in  its 
hopeless  effort,  for  the  human  drift  kept  pace, 
and  the  awful  battle  was  lost  and  won.  Shiloh 
had  passed  into  history,  and  Grant  was  famous  ! 
The  country  took  stock  of  its  loss  and  its  gain. 
One  more  milestone  in  the  devious  road  was 
past.  One  more  reef  was  taken  in  the  irrepress 
ible  conflict.  The  North  rejoiced.  The  South 
sorrowed,  and  mothers,  wives,  sisters,  and  sweets 
hearts  stared  at  the  wall  and  wept  and  moaned 
for  the  treasure  that  was  lost,  for  the  price  that 
was  paid,  and  took  up  anew  their  stunned  and 
silent  part,  and  waited  and  hoped  and  prayed. 
One  of  the  first  regiments  to  dash  past  into 
the  hell  of  shot  and  shell  was  Beverly's.  He 


AN  VN OFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  279 

had  noticed,  as  people  will  notice  trivial  things 
in  the  midst  of  great  crises,  a  board  nailed  to  a 
tree.  When  the  battle  was  over  he  had  searched 
for  his  brother's  regiment.  At  last  he  had  found 
it,  but  Roy  was  not  there.  Some  one  said  he 
had  fallen,  others  said  he  had  been  captured  just 
before  the  relief  came — "  Right  up  there  by  the 
challenge — by  the  tree."  Beverly  rode  back 
toward  the  hill,  sick  and  faint  at  heart.  He 
wondered,  with  a  thrill  of  superstitious  fear,  if 
that  board  was  to  be  a  sort  of  grave-mark  for  his 
brother,  and  if  that  was  the  reason  he  had  no 
ticed  the  ridiculous  challenge  at  such  a  time. 
He  would  go  back  to  the  mark  and  search  for 
his  brother.  He  got  down  from  his  horse  and 
tied  him  to  the  tree.  The  challenge  was  still 
there.  He  had  no  heart  to  read  it,  but  started 
on  his  sickening  search.  Face  after  face  that  he 
knew — boys  from  the  old  college — looked  up  at 
him — some,  alas,  with  stark,  unseeing  eyes,  and 
others  who  begged  for  help.  Boys  he  had  in  the 
old  days  cared  for  with  youthful  fervor,  and  yet 
they  seemed  as  nothing  to  him  now  ;  he  must  not 
lose  time — he  must  find  his  brother.  Again 
and  again  he  turned  a  bloody  face  upward  only 


280  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

to  exclaim,  "  Thank  God !  "  when  he  did  not 
know  the  features.  Oh,  the  infinite  selfishness 
of  Love !  The  toy  it  makes  of  our  human  sym 
pathies  !  The  contraction  it  puts  upon  our  gen 
erosity  of  soul !  The  limitations  it  sets  upon 
our  helpfulness  !  When  twilight  came  Beverly 
was  still  searching  for  his  brother,  and  thanking 
God,  in  the  face  of  every  mangled  form,  that  it 
was  the  face  of  some  other  man's  brother — some 
other  mother's  son  !  He  returned  to  the  camp 
for  a  light.  He  could  not  wait  until  morning 
to  be  sure  that  Roy  was  captured.  He  hoped 
and  prayed  that  it  might  be  so,  but  he 
must  know.  No  report  had  come  to  the  regi 
ment.  Roy  had  not  been  found  or  recognized. 
Beverly  went  hastily  through  the  hospital  tents. 
Roy  had  not  been  brought  in.  The  search  on 
the  field  began  again — the  search  for  his  brother. 
The  relief  corps  were  working  heroically.  Men 
with  stretchers  passed  and  repassed  him,  and 
still  Beverly  looked  in  vain.  He  turned  his 
dark  lantern  on  the  stretchers  as  they  approached 
him,  and  sighed  with  relief  as  each  passed  on. 
He  came  to  the  spot  where  the  little  church  had 
stood,  now  dismantled  and  wrecked  by  shell. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  281 

One  after  another  he  turned  the  faces  of  pros 
trate  men  upward.  The  night  was  wearing  on. 
He  was  desperate,  discouraged,  and  yet  he  had 
begun  to  settle  into  a  solid  hope  that  Roy  had 
been  captured  and  taken  back  into  the  Confed 
erate  ranks  before  the  relief  had  come.  He  was 
making  his  way  back  to  the  tree  and  his  impa 
tient  horse,  when  he  heard  a  gurgling  groan  in 
a  muddy  ravine  through  which  the  retreating 
cannon  had  gone.  He  turned  aside  and  searched 
with  his  lantern  again.  Deep  in  the  stiff  mud 
lay  a  young  officer.  His  legs  were  deeply  im 
bedded.  Evidently  the  wheel  of  a  cannon-car 
riage,  or  some  other  heavy  wheel,  had  passed 
over  him  and  crushed  his  legs  into  the  soft 
earth.  He  had  lain  directly  in  the  path  of  the 
retreating  ordnance.  The  deep  tracks  told 
where  the  wheels  had  been.  Beverly  turned 
sick.  He  stooped  to  lift  the  face  that  lay  half 
in  the  mud  and  water. 

"  Oh,  Roy  !  Roy !  my  brother  ! "  he  gasped  and 
fell  upon  his  knees.  His  hand  trembled  so  that 
the  canteen  fell  from  his  grasp.  He  groped  for 
it  as  the  lantern  lay  beside  him,  and  one  hand 
still  held  the  face  above  the  earth.  "  Roy  I 


282  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

Roy !  can  you  hear  me  ?  Can  you  hear  me  ?  It  is 
your  brother !  It  is  Beverly !  "  lie  cried  out,  but 
for  reply  there  was  only  that  gurgling  groan,  fol 
lowed  by  another  and  another — and  then  silence. 

"  Oh,  my  God !  "  cried  Beverly,  "  What  can 
I  do  ?  It  will  kill  him  to  try  to  lift  those  poor 
crushed  legs  and " 

The  light  fell  on  the  breast,  and  there,  for  the 
first  time,  Beverly  saw  that  it  was  not  mud 
alone  that  lay  there,  but  that  a  piece  of  spent 
shell  was  half  crushed  into  Roy's  side.  It  was 
plain  now.  Roy  had  fallen  with  that,  and  the 
retreating  battery  had  driven  over  his  helpless 
form.  Beverly  wiped  the  mud  and  powder  from 
his  brother's  face  and  bent  down  and  kissed  the 
parted  lips. 

"  Oh,  my  brother !  my  brother !  I  came  too 
late  at  last !  I  thought  all  the  way  on  the  river, 
and  then,  as  we  dashed  up  that  hill,  I  thought 
we  had  come  in  time  to  save  you,  and  I  was  so 
glad  !  Roy,  I  prayed  not  to  be  too  late  !  Some 
how  I  thought  you  were  up  there.  And  you 
were  here — here,  with  this  ghastly  wound — and 
they  drove  over  you  I  O,  Roy,  Roy,  my  brother, 
how  can  I  ever  tell  mother?  How  can  I  ? " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  283 

The  long,  gurgling  moan  came  again.  Bev 
erly  sprang  to  his  feet  and  shouted  for  help. 
Shout  after  shout  rang  out.  At  last  a  reply 
came,  and  then  men  with  a  stretcher. 

"  I  have  found  my  brother,"  was  all  Beverly 
could  say.  His  own  voice  seemed  strange  and 
distant  to  him.  The  men  set  about  lifting  the 
body  from  its  bed  of  clay — the  body  of  this 
spruce  young  officer  who  had  been  so  eager  that 
his  brother  should  feel  proud  to  see  him  in  his 
new  uniform  with  the  first-lieutenant's  straps  I 
No  one  could  tell  what  the  uniform  was  now, 
and  the  jaunty  cap  and  polished  sword  were 
gone  !  The  strong  young  legs  and  the  erect 
figure  could  boast  of  its  extra  inch  no  longer. 
Beverly  breathed  hard  as  the  men  worked. 
"  I'm  afraid  he's  too  far  gone  to  help  now,  cap 
tain.  It " 

"  Oh,  let  me  lift  his  head !  I  can't  pull  on 
those  poor  crushed  legs  !  Be  so  careful !  Oh, 
God  !  oh,  God !  how  cruel !  Be  so  careful ! — 
oh,  Roy  !  Roy ! — We  are  trying  to  be  so  careful, 
Roy  !  "We  try  not  to  hurt  you  so  !  My  God, 
how  cruel !  I  cannot  bear  it,  brother !  " 

The  body  was  on  the  stretcher  at  last,  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


Beverly  was  wiping  great  beads  of  anguish  from 
his  own  face.  One  poor  leg  was  crushed  near 
the  hip,  and  had  been  hard  to  manage.  The 
groans  had  become  more  distinct  and  frequent. 
Then,  "Dr — dr,"  came  from  the  lips. 

"  Here,  here,  give  me  a  canteen  !  I  lost  mine 
down  there.  Quick,  he  wants  a  drink,  I  think. 
Here,  brother  Roy."  Beverly  put  a  hand  under 
his  head.  "  Here,  Roy,  dear,  can  you  swallow  ? 
Oh,  it  hurts  him  so  !  Here,  brother,  my  brother  ! 
Oh,  Roy,  I  wish  it  were  I !  Can  you  hear  me  ? 
Can  you  hear  me,  Roy  ?  " 

The  men  with  the  stretcher  turned  their  faces 
away  and  drew  their  sleeves  across  their  eyes. 
Even  they  who  had  worked  all  night  with  and 
for  the  dead  and  dying  were  moved  anew  by  the 
young  officer's  sorrow.  Beverly  looked  up 
hopefully. 

"  I  think  he  swallowed  just  a  little.  Let  us 
get  him  to  a  surgeon,  quick.  Perhaps,  per 
haps "  Beverly  looked  from  one  to  the 

other  and  could  not  finish  his  sentence.  The 
little  group  moved  wearily  toward  the  hospital 
tents,  and  Beverly  ran  for  the  surgeon  of  his 
own  company. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  285 

"  My  God,  doctor,  lie  has  been  driven  over, 
and  he  is  wounded  in  the  breast  besides  !  Do 
you  think  there  is  any  hope  ?  Oh,  how  I  wish 
it  were  I !  Oh,  doctor,  can't  you  save  him  ?  It 
is  my  brother — my  brother  Roy  !  " 

The  surgeon  was  listening  as  he  worked. 

"  The  best  thing  that  could  have  happened  to 
him  is  that  he  was  so  deep  in  that  mud.  It  has 
kept  the  fever  down.  It  has  saved  his  leg.  It 
isn't  badly  swollen.  I  can  set  this  bone.  I 
don't  think  the  other  one  is "  He  was  ex 
amining  and  talking  slowly.  He  changed  to 
the  wound  in  the  breast.  "  This  is  the  most — 
this  is  the  worst,  but  I  don't  think  the  lung  is 
badly — this  plaster  of  mud  on  his  breast " 

"  I  took  it  nearly  all  off,  doctor.  It  was  very 
thick  when  I  found  him,  and  this "  Bev 
erly  took  a  large  jagged  piece  of  shell  from  his 
pocket.  "  This  was  down  in  it.  I  think  it  must 
have  struck  and  stunned  him,  and  while  he  was 
helpless  those  cruel  wheels  went  over  him.  His 
body  was  as  if  he  had  fallen  on  his  back,  but 
the  legs  were  twisted  as  if  he  had  been  on  his 
side.  The  mud  was  nearly  two  feet  deep.  It 
was  an  awful  place,  awful !  And  to  think  that 


286  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

they  should  have  driven  over  Roy  I  Do  you 
think ?" 

"  That  was  the  best  place  he  could  have  been. 

That  mud  has  acted  like "  The  doctor  was 

taking  professional  pride  in  the  case.  The 
wounded  man  groaned. 

"  Oh,  how  it  seems  to  hurt  him,  doctor !  Can't 
you — can't  I — couldn't  we  give  him  something 
to  deaden —  ?  He  was  never  so  strong  as  I. 
He " 

"  You'd  better  go  away,  captain.  You're 
brave  enough  for  yourself,  but  you'd  better  go 
away.  I'll  do  my  level  best  for  him.  I  don't 
think  this  wound  is  fatal  —  and  the  mud  poul 
tice  was  the  very  best  thing  that  could  have 
happened  to  him,  really.  The  wheel  that  threw 
that  did  him  a  greater  service  than  it  did  injury 
to  his  leg.  I — you  had  better  go  and  lie  down 
for  a  while,  captain.  I'll  do  everj'ihing  possible, 
and — well,  I  hope  his  lung  is  not  very  seriously 
implicated.  I  hope  we  can  pull  him  through. 
I  feel  sure  of  the  leg  and — go  and  lie  down. 
You  can't  do  any  good  here,  and  you  mustn't 
lose  your  nerve  that  way.  If  he — if  I — if  he 
regains  consciousness  I'll  call  you.  Try  to  get 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  287 

a  little  rest  for  to-morrow.     Try.     You  may  be 
needed  then.     You  must  have  your  nerve  then, 

too,  if  he  should  open  his  eyes  and " 

"  If  he  should  open  his  eyes  !  "  Beverly  turned 
away  and  sat  with  his  face  in  his  hands.  "  How 
can  I  write  it  to  mother,"  he  moaned — "  how 
can  I  ?  How  can  I  ?  And  father  may  not  be 
there  to  help  her  bear  it  I  Oh,  Roy,  Roy,  my 
brother ! " 


288  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

"How  dear  to  my  heart  are  the  scenes  of  my  childhood." 

WHEN  the  news  of  the  battle  reached  Kath- 
erine,  she  was  still  alone.  Griffith  had  not 
completed  the  task  set,  and  was  still  in  the  tent 
of  the  irascible  General,  whose  chief  acquaint 
ance  with  the  English  language  appeared  to  lie 
in  his  explosive  and  ever  ready  profanity.  He 
swore  if  things  went  right,  and  he  swore  if  they 
went  wrong.  If  he  liked  a  man,  he  swore  at 
him  playfully,  and  if  he  disliked  him,  he  swore 
at  him  in  wrath.  His  ammunition  might  give 
out,  but  a  volley  of  oaths  was  never  wanting  to 
fire  at  the  enemy.  It  sometimes  seemed  to 
Griffith  the  irony  of  fate  that  he  should  be  placed 
in  the  same  tent  and  closely  associated  with  such 
a  man,  for,  although  Griffith  said  nothing,  it 
grated  sadly  upon  his  ears,  and  he  sometimes 
wondered  if  the  Almighty  would  prosper  an 
expedition  led  by  this  man,  for  Griffith  had  kept 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  289 

still,  through  all  the  years  the  primitive  idea  of 
a  personal  God  who  takes  cognizance  of  the 
doings  of  men,  and  meets  and  parries  them  by 
devices  and  schemes  of  His  own. 

As  time  went  on,  and  Lengthy  Patterson  re 
covered  from  his  wound  so  as  to  be  always  in 
evidence,  he  came  in  for  a  large  share  of  the 
General's  explosive  and  meaningless  oaths. 
Sometimes  it  was  half  in  fun,  more  often  it  was 
in  memory  of  the  fact  that  Lengthy  had  ignored 
him  and  his  questions  upon  their  first  meeting, 
and  that  up  to  this  day  the  lank  mountaineer 
took  his  orders  and  his  cue  from  Griffith  only. 
He  had  attached  himself  to  the  sharpshooters 
and  rarely  left  Griffith's  side.  As  silent  and 
faithful  as  a  dog  he  rode  day  after  day,  with 
watchful  eyes,  by  the  side  of  or  just  behind  "  the 
Parson,"  as  he  still  called  the  object  of  his 
adoration.  He  watched  Griffith  narrowly.  He 
noticed  the  growing  sadness  of  the  old-time 
merry  face.  He  felt  that  something  was  wrong. 
At  last  the  silence  could  be  preserved  no  longer, 
he  must  know  what  the  trouble  was.  They 
were  near  the  borders  of  the  county  where 

Griffith's  old  home  was.     Lengthy  had  expect- 
19 


290  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

ed  to  see  his  face  grow  interested  and  bright, 
but  instead  there  seemed  to  come  over  it  a 
drawn  and  haggard  look  that  was  a  puzzle  and 
a  torment  to  the  woodsman.  He  ventured  a 
remark  as  they  rode  apart  from  the  rest. 

"Sick?" 

"  No,  no,  Lengthy.     I'm  not  sick.     Why  ?  " 

"  Yeh  never  talk  no  mo'.  Heard  yeh  kinder 
groan.  Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole." 

Griffith  turned  his  face  full  upon  him. 

"  Lengthy,  it  is  almost  more  than  I  can  bear 
to  do  this  work.  I — it  is — sometimes  I  think  I 
cannot  take  them  over  there."  He  held  out  his 
hand  toward  the  beautiful  valley  in  the  dis 
tance.  They  could  see  the  thread  of  the  river 
winding  through  the  trees  and  out  into  field 
and  farm.  It  was  the  river  in  which  Lengthy 
had  seen  this  friend  of  his  baptized,  so  many 
years  ago,  when  both  were  young  men,  and  now 
both  were  growing  gray  ! 

Lengthy  made  no  reply.  The  silence  stretched 
into  minutes.  They  halted  for  the  noon  meal 
and  to  feed  and  rest  the  horses.  They  all  lay 
about  on  the  hill,  and  Griffith  talked  to  the 
engineers.  They  drew  lines  and  made  figures 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  291 

and  notes.  An  hour  later  they  pushed  on 
toward  the  river.  Lengthy  and  Griffith  rode  in 
front.  The  old  mill  where  Pete  had  run  away 
appeared  in  the  distance.  The  river  was  very 
near  now.  A  heavy  sigh  from  Griffith  broke 
the  silence.  He  was  looking  far  ahead  and  his 
face  was  drawn  and  miserable. 

"  What  d'  yeh  go  fer  ?  " 

Griffith  did  not  hear.  His  chin  had  dropped 
upon  his  breast,  and  his  face  was  pale.  His  lips 
moved,  and  the  mountaineer  waited.  At  last 
he  said :  "  What  yeh  do  hit  fer  ?  " 

"What?" 

"  What  yeh  do  hit  fer,  'f  yeh  don't  want  teh  ?  " 

"Do  what?     Go  here?" 

"Yeh?" 

"  I  am  a  Union  man,  Lengthy.  The  President 
sent  for  me  and  asked  me  to  do  it.  He  made 
me  see  it  was  my  duty.  There  was  no  one  else 

he  could  trust,  who  knew  the  country.  I " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  The  mountaineer 
threw  his  leg  up  over  the  front  of  his  saddle, 
and  ruminated  on  the  new  outlook.  Presently 

Griffith  went  on  :  "  Some  one  must  do  it,  but " 

He  lifted  his  face  toward  the  blue  above  him : 


292  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  if  this  cup  could  but  pass  from 
me !  "  he  groaned  aloud.  "  It  seems  to  me  I 
cannot  cross  that  river  !  It  seems  to  me  I  can 
not  !  "  His  voice  broke  and  there  was  silence. 

"  Don't  need  teh'." 

Griffith  did  not  hear.  His  eyes  were  closed 
and  he  was  praying  for  light  and  leading,  as  he 
would  have  called  it — for  strength  to  do  the 
dreaded  task,  if  it  must  be  done.  Lengthy 
looked  at  him,  and  then  at  the  not  far  distant 
river,  and  waited  in  silence.  A  half  mile 
farther  on  he  said,  as  if  the  chain  of  remarks 
had  been  unbroken  :  "  Don't  need  teh  cross.  I 
will  fer  yeh." 

"  What  ?  "  cried  Griffith,  like  a  man  who  has 
heard  and  is  afraid  to  believe. 

"  Said  yeh  didn't  need  teh  cross.  I  will  fer 
yeh.  Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole,"  he  re 
peated,  in  the  same  level  key,  looking  straight 
at  his  horse's  ears. 

Griffith's  bridle  fell  upon  his  horse's  neck. 
Both  arms  lifted  themselves  up,  and  both  hands 
spread  as  if  to  grasp  something.  "  Oh,  my  God, 
is  my  prayer  to  be  answered  so  soon  ?  Do  you 
mean — oh,  Lengthy,  do  you  mean  that  you  will 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  293 

_i . . 

save  me  from  this  terrible  trial  ?  Do  you 
mean " 

"  I  does."  He  was  gazing  straight  ahead  of 
him  now,  with  elaborate  pretense  of  indifference. 
He  had  begun  to  grasp  the  situation. 

Griffith  dropped  both  hands  upon  his  uplifted 
face,  and  a  cry  as  of  one  in  great  pain  escaped 
him,  "  O-h-h,"  in  a  long  quaver.  The  moun 
taineer  turned  his  eyes.  Griffith  was  looking 
straight  at  him  now,  like  a  hunted  man  who  at 
last  sees  hope  and  rescue  ahead,  but  dares  not 
trust  it  lest  it  prove  but  an  illusion.  He  tried 
to  speak,  but  his  voice  failed  him.  The  moun 
taineer  understood. 

"Yeh  kin  go  home.  I'll  do  hit.  Few 
words " 

Griffith  was  overtaken  with  hysterics.  He 
threw  both  arms  above  his  head  and  shouted, 
"  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !  Peace  and 
good  will  to  men  !  "  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands  to  hide  the  emotion  he  could  not  con 
trol.  They  were  on  the  banks  of  the  river  now, 
and  the  commander  dashed  up.  "  What  in  hell's 
the  matter  now  ?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Hit's  the  river  done  it,"  put  in  the  mountain- 


i>94  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

eer,  to  save  his  friend  the  need  of  words.  "  Bap 
tized  thar." 

"  What  ?  What  in  the  devil  are  you  talking 
about  ?  What  in " 

He  was  looking  at  Griffith,  but  Lengthy  broke 
in  again  with  his  perfectly  level  and  emotion 
less  voice.  "  Baptized  thar,  I  sez.  Few-words- 
comprehends-th' " 

"  Will  you  dry  up  ?  You  infernal What 

does  this  mean?  "  He  turned  again  to  Griffith, 
who  had  regained  his  self-control.  The  com 
mander  usually  acted  upon  him  as  a  refrigerator, 
so  incapable  was  he  of  understanding  human 
emotion  that  reached  beyond  the  limits  of  irri 
tability. 

"  General,"  he  began,  slowly,  "  I  have  just  ar 
ranged  with  Mr.  Patterson  for  him  to  take  my 
place  as  Government  Guide.  I  can  go  with  you 
no  farther.  That  house  over  there  in  the  dis 
tance  " — he  stretched  out  his  hand — "  used  to 
be  my  old  home.  I  love  the  people  who  live 
here — all  about  here.  This  river " 

A  volley  of  oaths  interrupted  Griffith.  The 
command  had  come  up,  and  the  staff-officers  sat 
listening  and  waiting.  The  General  was  chang- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  295 

ing  his  first  outburst  into  arguments.  Griffith 
met  them  quite  calmly.  It  seemed  a  long  time 
now  since  he  had  found  the  relief  he  felt.  It 
did  not  seem  possible  that  it  was  only  ten  min 
utes  ago  that  it  had  come  to  him. 

"  This  man  knows  the  country  even  better 
than  I  do,  General.  He  is  willing  to  go — to 
take  my  place — and  he  is  perfectly  loyal — loyal 
to  me.  He  will — what  Mr.  Lincoln  wanted  was 
that  the  work  should  be  done,  and  done  by  one 
he  could  trust — it  was  not  that  he  wanted  me 
to  do  it.  I  will  stake  my  honor  on  this  man's 
fidelity.  He "  The  word  "  deserter,"  min 
gled  with  threats,  struck  Griffith's  ear ;  he  did 
not  pause  to  analyze  it.  "  Mr.  Lincoln  told  me 
that  I  was  to  return  to  him  whenever  I " 

"  God  damn  Mr.  Lincoln  !  Tarn  in  command 
of  these  troops  !  Mr.  Lincoln  didn't  know  he 
was  giving  me  a  couple  of  lunatics  to  deal  with ! 
If  you  attempt  to  leave  you  will  be  shot  as  a  de 
serter,  I  tell  you !  I'll  do  it  myself,  by  God  !  " 

Griffith's  head  dropped  against  his  breast.  He 
dismounted  slowly  and  handed  his  bridle  to  the 
mountaineer.  Lengthy  hooked  it  over  his  arm 
and  waited.  Mr.  Davenport  deliberately  knelt 


296  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

by  the  bank  of  tlie  river,  with  his  face  toward 
the  old  home. 

"  Shoot.  I  will  go  no  farther  !  "  he  said,  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

Instantly  the  mountaineer's  gun  went  to  his 
shoulder.  His  aim  was  at  the  General's  breast. 
"  Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole,"  he  said, 
and  the  hammer  clicked.  The  General  smiled 
grimly. 

"  Get  up,"  he  said.  "  I  had  no  right  to  make 
that  threat.  You  are  a  private  citizen.  You 
came  of  your  own  accord.  You  are  under  Lin 
coln  only.  Get  up  !  Can  we  trust  this  man, 
damn  him  ?  " 

Griffith  staggered  to  his  feet.  The  storm  had 
left  him  weak  and  pale.  The  mountaineer  dis 
mounted  and  stood  beside  him. 

"  You  mean  to  take  my  place  in  good  faith — 
to  lead  them  right — I  know,  Lengthy ;  but  tell 
him  so  for  me"  Griffith  asked,  in  a  tired  voice, 
taking  the  swarthy  hand  in  his.  "  You  will 
do  your  best  as  a  guide  in  my  place,  won't 
you?" 

Lengthy's  response  was  unequivocal.  "I 
will,"  he  said  in  his  monotonous  tone,  and 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  297 

somehow,  as  they  stood  hand  in  hand  with  the 
curious  group  of  men  about  them,  the  reply  re 
minded  every  one  of  the  response  in  the  mar 
riage  service,  and  a  smile  ran  around  as  the  men 
glanced  at  each  other. 

"  You  promise  to  do  all  in  your  knowledge 
and  power  to  enable  them  to  get  accurate  knowl 
edge  and  make  their  maps,  don't  you,  Lengthy  ?  " 

"I  do," 

The  similitude  struck  even  the  commander, 
and  when  Griffith  turned,  the  irascible  General 
was  trying  to  cover  a  smile. 

"  Are  you  satisfied,  General  ?  I  will  stake 
my  life  on  both  his  capacity  to  do  it — even  bet 
ter  than  I — and  on  his  honor  when  he  promises 
to  do  it  for  me.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Have  to  be  satisfied,  I  guess.  Mount  ! 
March!" 

Griffith  lifted  the  hard,  brown,  rough  hand  in 
both  of  his  and  gravely  kissed  it.  "  You  are  the 
truest  friend  I  ever  had,  Lengthy.  God  bless 
and  protect  you  1  Good-bye." 

The  mountaineer  laid  the  great  hand  on  the 
palm  of  its  fellow,  and  looked  at  it  gravely  as 
he  rode. 


298  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

*•  Kissed  it,  by  gum  !  "  He  gazed  at  the  spot 

in  silent  awe.  "  Few-words-comp "  His 

voice  broke,  and  he  rode  away  at  the  head  of  the 
command,  still  holding  the  sacred  hand  on  the 
palm  of  the  one  not  so  consecrated,  and  looked 
at  it  from  time  to  time  with  silent,  reverential 
admiration.  His  gun  lay  across  his  saddle,  and 
the  horse  took  the  ford  as  one  to  the  manner 
born.  On  the  farther  bank  he  turned  and  looked 
back.  Griffith  waved  his  handkerchief,  and 
every  man  in  the  command  joined  in  the  salute 
when  Lengthy 's  shout  rang  out,  "  Three  cheers 
for  the  Parson  ! " 

Even  the  General's  hat  went  up,  and  Griffith 
rode  back  alone  over  the  path  he  had  but  just 
come,  alone — and  unguarded — but  with  a  great 
load  lifted  from  his  shoulders,  bound  for  Wash 
ington  to  make  his  final  report  to  the  President, 
and  then  return  to  the  ways  and  haunts  of  peace. 

"  Homeward  bound !  homeward  bound !  thank 
God ! "  he  said,  aloud,  "  with  life's  worst  and 
hardest  duty  done.  Surely,  surely,  my  part  of 
this  terrible  struggle  is  over !  It  has  shadowed 
me  for  twenty  long  years.  The  future  shall  be 
free.  Peace  has  come  for  me  at  last  I " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.          299 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  The  days  of  youth  are  the  days  of  gladness." 

"  DEAR  MOTHER,"  wrote  Howard,  "  I  forgot 
to  write  last  week,  but  then  there  wasn't  the 
first  thing  to  tell,  so  it  don't  matter.  We're 
just  loafing  here  in  camp  waiting  for  the  next 
move.  We  had  a  little  scrap  with  the  Johnnies 
ten  days  ago,  but  it  didn't  come  to  anything  on 
either  side.  They  are  sulking  in  their  tents  and 
we  are  dittoing  in  ours.  But  what  I  began  this 
letter  to  tell  is  really  funny,  and  I  don't  want 
to  forget  to  write  it.  The  other  day  a  slabsided 
old  woman  (you  never  did  see  such  a  funny 
looking  creature.  She  was  worse  than  the 
mountaineer  class  in  Virginia,  or  even  than  those 
Hoosiers  out  there  on  that  farm  near  ours.) 
Well,  she  came  to  our  camp  from  some  place 
back  in  the  country  and  asked  to  see  our  '  doctor 
man.'  She  seemed  to  think  there  was  but  one. 


300  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

One  of  the  surgeons  had  a  talk  with  her,  and  it 
turned  out  that  her  '  ole  man,'  as  she  called  her 
husband,  was  'mighty  bad  off  with  breakbone 
fever,'  and  she  had  come  to  see  if  the  Yankee 
doctor  man  wouldn't  have  some  kind  of  stuff 
that  would  cure  him  the  first  dose.  These  kinds 
of  folks  think  our  officers  and  doctors  are  about 
omnipotent,  because  our  men  are  so  much  better 
fed  and  clothed  and  equipped  than  the  Johnnies 
are. 

"  '  Ef  yoh  can't  gimme  sumpin'  fer  my  ole  man, 
doctah,  he's  jes  boun'  ter  die,'  she  kept  saying 
over  and  over.  Well,  the  doctor  questioned  her, 
and  came  to  the  conclusion  that  a  good  sweat 
would  be  about  the  proper  caper  to  recommend, 
and  he  told  her  to  cover  him  up  well,  and  then  to 
take  some  sage — they  all  have  that  in  the  garden 
and  mighty  little  else — and,  said  he,  '  take 
about  so  much  and  put  it  in  something  and  then 
measure  out  exactly  one  quart  of  water  and  boil 
it  and  pour  over  the  sage.  Then  make  him 
drink  it  just  as  hot  as  he  can.  Now  don't  forget, 
so  much  sage  and  exactly  a  quart  of  water.' 

"  '  Yeh  think  thet's  agoin'  t'  cuah  (cure)  my 
ole  man,  doctah  ? '  says  she. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  301 

" '  I  think  it  is  the  best  thing  for  him  now. 
Be  sure  to  make  it  as  I  told  you — so  much  sage 
and  a  quart  of  water.' 

"  '  You  kin  bet  I'll  fix  her  up  all  right,  doctah, 
ef  thet's  a  goin'  t'  cuah  my  ole  man.'  Then  she 
tramped  back  home.  The  next  day  she  appeared 
bright  and  early,  and  wanted  .that  doctor  man 
again.  '  Well,  my  good  woman,  I  hope  your 
husband  is  feeling  a  good  deal  easier  after  his 
sweat.  I ' 

"  '  Naw  'e  hain't  nuther.  My  ole  man,  he 
hain't  scooped  out  011  the  inside  like  you  Yanks 
is,  I  reckon.' 

"  She  looked  pretty  worried.  '  How's  that  ? 
How's  that  ? '  asked  the  doctor. 

" '  Wai,'  says  she,  '  I  jest  hoofed  hit  home  es 
quick  es  ever  I  could,  an'  I  tuck  an'  medjured 
out  thet  there  sage  an'  the  water — jest  edzactly 
a  quat — an'  I  fixed  her  up  an  tuck  hit  t'  the  ole 
man.  I  riz  his  head  up,  mister — fer  he's  power 
ful  weak — an'  he  done  his  plum  best  t'  swaller 
hit,  but  the  fust  time  he  didn't  git  mo'n  halft 
down  till  he  hove  the  hull  of  hit  up  agin.  I 
went  back  and  I  medjured  up  thet  there  sage 
agin  an'  the  water  an'  tried  him  agin,  but  he 


C02  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

hove  her  up  ''fore  he  got  halft  down.  But  I 
never  stopped  till  I  tries  her  agin,  an*  that  time, 
doctah,  he  didn't  git  halft  down.  Now,  doctah, 
thet  there  ole  man  er  mine  he  don't  hold  but 
a  pint.  I  reckon  you  Yanks  is  scooped  out 
thinner  than  what  we  alls  is.: 

"  We  boys  just  yelled,  but  the  poor  soul 
loped  off  to  her  pint>measure  old  man  without 
seeing  a  bit  of  fun  in  it.  She  was  mad  as  a  wet 
hen  when  the  doctor  told  her  she  needn't  make 
him  drink  it  all  at  one  fell  swoop.  She  vowed 
he  had  told  her  that  the  first  time,  and  it's  my 
impression  that  she  now  suspects  the  Yankees  of 
trying  to  burst  her  old  man.  I've  laughed  over 
it  all  day,  so  I  thought  I'd  write  it  to  you,  but 
it  don't  seem  half  so  funny  in  writing  as  it  was 
to  hear  it. 

u  Give  little  Margaret  this  ring  I  put  in.  I 
cut  it  out  of  a  piece  of  laurel  root.  I  expect  it 
is  too  big  for  her,  but  she  can  have  some  fun 
with  it  I  reckon.  There  isn't  any  more  news, 
only  one  of  our  cannons  exploded  the  other 
day.  It  didn't  do  much  damage.  I'm  not  sure 
that  I've  spelled  some  of  these  words  right,  but 
my  unabridged  is  not  handy  and  I'm  not  sorry. 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  303 

I  always  hated  to  look  for  words.  I  wish  you'd 
tell  some  of  the  town  boys  to  write  to  me. 
Letters  go  pretty  good  in  camp  and  some  fellows 
get  a  lot.  I  don't  get  many.  It's  hard  to 
answer  them  if  you  get  many,  though,  so  I  don't 
know  which  is  worst.  This  is  the  longest  one 
I  ever  wrote  in  my  life.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  to 
tell  Aunt  Judy  I  met  a  fellow  from  Washington 
and  he  said  the  twins  were  in  jail,  but  they  were 
let  out  to  work  on  some  Government  intrench- 
ments  near  by.  I  don't  know  what  they  were 
in  for.  The  fellow  didn't  know  about  our  other 
niggers.  Said  he  thought  Mark  and  Phillis 
were  dead  because  he  used  to  see  them  but 
hadn't  for  a  long  time.  Said  Sallie  worked  for 
his  mother  sometimes  and  that  is  how  he  knew 
so  much  about  them.  Two  or  three  of  the  boys 
got  shot  last  night  putting  cartridges  in  the  fire 
to  monkey  with  the  other  fellows.  None  of  'em 
hit  yours  truly.  My  hand  is  plum  woah  out,  as 
Aunt  Judy  would  say,  holding  this  pen — and  the 
thing  has  gone  to  walking  on  one  leg.  I  guess 
I  broke  the  point  off  the  other  side  jabbing  at  a 
fly.  Good-bye.  Write  soon, 

"  HOWABD. 


504  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


"  P.S. — I  forgot  to  say  I  am  well,  and  send 
love.  I  wish  I  had  some  home  grub. 

"  Foxy  Leathers  got  a  bully  box  last  week. 
He  gave  me  nearly  half  of  his  fruit  cake.  The 
other  boys  didn't  know  he  had  one.  They  got 
doughnuts — but  even  doughnuts  are  a  lot  better 
than  the  grub  we  get.  H." 

The  box  of  "  home  grub,"  was  speedily 
packed  and  sent,  and  while  it  lasted  it  made 
merry  the  hearts  of  his  mess.  Howard  said  in 
one  of  his  letters  that  he  was  growing  very  tall. 
He  said  that  the  boys  declared  that  "  if  it  had 
not  been  for  his  collar  he  would  have  been 
split  all  the  way  up,  as  he  had  run  chiefly  to 
legs."  Howard,  however,  expressed  it  as  his 
own  unbiased  opinion  that  it  was  jealousy  of  his 
ability  to  walk  over  the  fences  that  they  had  to 
climb  which  prompted  the  remark.  "  Foxy 
has  to  climb  for  it  and  I  put  one  leg  over  and 
then  I  put  the  other  over — and  there  you  are," 
he  said.  Camp  life  agreed  with  him,  and  the 
restraints  of  home  no  longer  rasping  his  temper, 
he  seemed  to  be  the  gayest  of  the  gay.  Nothing 
troubled  him.  He  slept  and  ate  wherever  and 


UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  305 

whenever  and  whatever  fell  to  his  lot ;  lived 
each  day  as  it  came  and  gave  no  thought  to  its 
successor.  He  counted  up  on  his  fingers  when 
he  wrote  home  last,  and  tried  to  remember  to 
write  about  once  a  week,  because  his  mother 
begged  that  he  would,  and  not  at  all  because  the 
impulse  to  do  so  urged  him  or  because  he  cared 
especially  to  say  anything.  He  liked  to  get  let 
ters,  but  he  knew  he  was  sure  of  those  from 
home  whether  he  wrote  or  not,  and  so  his  replies 
had  that  uncertainty  of  date  dependent  upon 
luck.  No  sense  of  responsibility  Aveighed  upon 
him,  and  his  mother's  anxiety  impressed  him — 
when  he  thought  of  it  at  all — as  a  bit  of 
womanish  nonsense ;  natural  enough  for  a 
woman,  but  all  very  absurd.  He  had  no  deeper 
mental  grasp  upon  it,  and  indeed  the  whole 
ethical  nature  of  this  boy  seemed  embryonic ; 
and  so  it  was  that  his  camp  life  was  the  happiest 
he  had  ever  known — the  happiest  he  would 

ever  know. 
20 


306  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

..."  Consider,  I  pray, 

How  we  common  mothers  stand  desolate,  murk, 
Whose  sons,  not  being  Christs,   die  with  eyes  turned  away, 

And  no  last  word  to  say ! " 

Mrs.  Browning. 

"DEAR  LITTLE  MOTHER,"  wrote  Beverly. 
"  When  I  telegraphed  you  last  night  that  Roy 
was  wounded  and  that  I  was  safe  and  unhurt,  I 
feared  that  to-day  this  letter  would  take  you 
most  terrible  news — you  who  have  the  hardest 
part  to  bear,  the  silent,  inactive  part  of  waiting 
and  uncertainty  and  inaction  and  anxiety — but 
to-day  I  feel  so  relieved  that  I  can  send  you  a 
very  hopeful  letter.  The  doctor  says  that  Roy 
will  surely  live  ;  and  he  hopes  that  the  wounds 
will  not  prove  so  serious  as  we  feared  at  first 
and  as  they  looked.  A  piece  of  shell  struck  him 
in  the  breast  but  it  must  have  been  a  spent 
shell,  for  although  the  place  is  considerably 
crushed  in,  the  doctor  now  feels  certain  that  no 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  307 

very  serious  damage  is  done  his  lung.  That 
was  what  we  feared  at  first.  One  of  his  legs  is 
broken  near  the  hip,  but  it  is  set  and  the  doctor 
says  it  is  doing  well  and  will  do  so,  for  there  is 
almost  no  fever.  The  great  mud  poultice  that 
was  on  it  for  several  hours  at  first  was  his 
salvation,  so  the  surgeon  thinks.  I  will  not 
stop  to  explain  this  to  you  now,  but  when  Roy 
gets  home  he  will  tell  you,  for  he  remembers 
most  of  it  and  we  will  tell  him  the  rest.  But 
just  now  I  want  simply  to  tell  you  the  reassur 
ing  things  and  the  plans  I  have  made  for  Roy. 
He  is  perfectly  conscious  and  says  that  he  does 
not  suffer  very  much.  We  don't  allow  him  to 
talk,  of  course,  for  fear  of  his  lung,  but  I've  ar 
ranged  to  have  him  sent  to  Nashville,  where  he 
can  be  nursed  as  well  as  if  he  were  at  home.  I 
recalled  that  the  Wests  live  there  now,  and  I  sent 
a  telegram  asking  if  they  would  not  take  Roy 
to  their  house  and  care  for  him  until  we  could 
send  him  home.  They  wired  that  they  would 
be  most  happy  to  do  so.  You  will  recall  that 
pretty  little  Emma  West  who  used  to  come  to 
the  house.  She  was  at  school  with  Roy  before 
he  went  to  college.  They  are  nice  people,  and 


308  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

I  am  sure  that  Roy  will  be  cared  for  as  if  he 
were  their  own.  They  are  Union  people. 
They  will  write  to  you  daily,  too,  so  that  every 
thing  will  be  made  as  easy  for  you  as  possible. 
This  takes  a  great  load  off  my  heart,  and  as 
Roy  seems  so  bright  to-day  I  am  almost  gay 
after  yesterday's  terrible  experience — of  which 
I  shall  tell  you  when  we  all  get  home,  but 
not  now.  One  of  the  most  absurd  things  I  ever 
heard  of  was  that  the  very  first  question  Roy 
tried  to  ask,  when  he  became  conscious,  was 
who  got  the  challenge  last.  It  was  a  side 
challenge  of  battle  between  his  regiment  and  a 
Louisiana  regiment.  It  was  posted  on  a  tree — 
written  on  a  slab  of  wood.  I  had  tied  my 
horse  to  that  tree  when  I  was  looking  for  Roy, 
and  had  utterly  forgotten  him.  Roy's  question 
recalled  the  poor  horse  to  me  and  I  went  to 
see  what  had  become  of  him.  There  the  old 
fellow  stood,  pawing  the  ground  and  twisting 
about  the  tree,  hungry  and  thirsty  and  tired. 
He  had  knocked  the  challenge  down  and  split  it 
with  his  stamping  feet.  I  gathered  it  up  and  took 
it  to  Roy,  and  a  real  lively  smile  crossed  his  face, 
and  immediately  he  fell  asleep.  What  strange 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  309 

freaks  of  fancy  and  of  desire  and  ambition  we 
are !  I  am  told  that  Roy  was  promoted  again 
on  the  field  just  before  he  was  shot,  so  he  is  as 
big  a  captain  now  as  I  am,  but  that  fact  has  not 
yet  appeared  to  come  back  to  him.  Who 
got  the  challenge  at  the  last  was  his  first 
thought !  I  suspect  he  was  thinking  of  that 
when  he  fell,  and  his  returning  consciousness 
took  up  the  thread  of  thought  right  where  he 
had  dropped  it  or  where  it  was  broken  by  the 
lapse.  It  has  not  seemed  to  surprise  him  to  see 
me.  He  acts  as  if  I  had  been  about  him  all 
along,  and  yet  it  has  been  nearly  two  years 
since  we  were  together !  Of  course  I  act  the 
same  way  so  as  not  to  excite  him.  He  has  had 
two  long,  good,  natural  naps  to-day  and  I  talked 
to  him  between.  He  knows  he  is  to  go  to 
Nashville,  and  I  had  a  sneaking  idea  that 
when  I  mentioned  Emrna  West  he  looked  un 
commonly  well  pleased  with  the  scheme.  Do 
you  know  whether  they  got  '  spoony,'  after  I 
left  home  ?  Anyhow  that  Nashville  scheme 
seems  to  suit  him  all  the  way  through.  I  feel 
absolutely  light-hearted  and  gay  to-day,  mother 
mine.  It  is  the  reaction  from  the  strain  of 


310  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

yesterday  and  last  night,  I  suppose ;  but  if  I 
could,  I'd  dance  or  sing  or  something.  Since  I 
can't  do  that  I'll  content  myself  with  writing  you 
rather  a  frivolous  letter.  You  just  ought  to  see 
these  trees  !  They  are  simply  riddled  with  shot 
and  shell.  This  shows,  too,  one  very  good  reason 
why  so  few  of  the  rounds  of  ammunition  take 
effect  in  the  men.  They  shoot  entirely  too 
high.  Quite  above  the  heads  of  the  tallest  men. 
The  trees  are  simply  cartridge  cases,  and  the  limbs 
are  torn  away.  The  mud !  You  ought  to  see  it. 
You'd  think  you  never  saw  mud  before.  It 
took  sixteen  mules  and  the  entire  regiment 
hitched  to  one  of  the  cannon  to  pull  it  along  the 
road  the  Johnnies  retreated  over.  A  man  we 
captured  was  one  who  had  given  out  at  the  job. 
Poor  fellows  !  they  had  a  hard  time  of  it  all 
around,  and  we  fresh  troops  who  landed  from 
the  gunboats  were  the  last  straw  in  their  cup  of 
tribulation.  I  reckon  they  don't  think  they 
got  their  tribulation  through  a  straw  though, 
and  the  figure  is  a  trifle  mixed  ;  but  as  a  soldier  I 
can't  stop  to  edit  copy  !  Oh,  mother,  I  wish  I 
could  make  you  feel  as  relieved  as  I  do  to-day. 
Skittish  is  the  word — I  feel  really  skittish ; 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  311 

because  I  am  so  sure  Roy  is  in  no  danger.  I 
believe  he  will  be  able  to  go  home  before  many 
weeks,  and  meantime,  for  all  comforts,  he  will 
be  as  if  he  were  at  home.  When  he  comes  you 
can  get  the  whole  story  of  his  fall,  the  fight,  and 
his  promotion.  Dear  old  fellow !  He's  a  great 
big  captain  now,  and  I  stick  right  there.  I'm 
acting  Inspector-General  now  on  the  staff,  but 
I'm  really  only  a  captain  yet.  I  hope  things 
will  settle  down  before  I  get  any  higher — 
though  I'd  feel  uncommonly  well  to  have  the 
same  kind  of  a  promotion  as  he  got  yesterday. 
I'm  going  to  let  him  tell  you  himself.  It  was 
quite  dramatic,  as  the  fellows  tell  me.  I  just 
stopped  to  take  a  peep  at  him  and  he  is  sleep 
ing  like  a  baby.  There  is  almost  no  fever.  I 
feel  like  hugging  this  pottery  clay  mud — for  we 
have  it  to  thank  for  a  good  deal — but  it  makes 
us  swear  to  march  through  it.  I  do  hope  father 
is  home  now.  He  is  my  main  anxiety.  I 
hope  he  won't  see  the  papers  if  anything  was 
said  of  Roy.  He  was  thought  to  be  '  missing,' 
at  first  when  the  reports  went,  and  then  to  be 
killed;  but  don't  worry  a  single  bit.  I  am 
telling  you  the  very  truth  when  I  tell  you  that 


312  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

last  night  I  believed  that  Roy  could  not  live 
and  to-night  I  feel  absolutely  safe  about  him — I 
feel  like  singing — and  all  this  accounts  for  this 
very  giddy  and  jerky  letter.  I  suppose  I  am 
what  you'd  call  hysterical.  Of  course  he  will  need 
intelligent  care,  but  since  that  is  all  arranged 
for  I  shall  march  away  to  Corinth  (that  is  our 
next  aim)  with  a  light  heart  and  as  hopeful 
as  I  want  to  make  you  feel.  Ah,  mother  mine, 
I  realize  more  and  more  what  all  this  must  be  to 
you  !  I  thought  of  it  as  I  looked  for  Roy  last 
night.  Silent,  patient,  inactive  anxiety !  The 
part  of  war  the  women  bear  is  by  far  the  harder 
part.  It  takes  bravery,  of  course,  to  face 
bullets  and  death  ;  but  it  must  require  almost 
inspired  heroism  to  sit  inactively  by  and  wait 
for  it  to  strike  those  we  love  far  better  than 
life.  More  and  more,  small  mother,  do  I  realize 
this,  do  I  understand  that  the  hardest  part  of  war 
must  be  borne  by  those  who  are  not  warriors ; 
but  we  love  you,  little  mother,  and  we  will  be  as 
careful  of  the  sons  you  care  for  and  love  as  we 
can  be  and  do  our  duty.  We  will  not  be  fool 
hardy  nor  reckless,  for  your  sake — be  sure. 
"  One  of  the  pathetic  things  that  is  not  un- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  013 

mingled  with  humor  was  told  me  to-day  by  the 
young  fellow  in  the  next  bed  to  Roy.  He  is  a 
pretty  boy,  only  about  eighteen.  He  belongs  to 
an  Ohio  regiment.  During  the  first  day's  fight 
he  got  separated  from  his  command  and  did  not 
know  whether  he  was  inside  or  outside  of  our 
lines.  He  was  picking  his  way  around,  peering 
from  behind  trees  cautiously,  trying  to  get  his 
bearings,  when  all  of  sudden  he  came  upon  a 
Johnnie.  Both  were  taken  by  surprise.  The 
other  fellow  jumped  and  seemed  about  to  shoot, 
and  the  Ohio  boy  yelled  out,  '  Don't  shoot ! 
don't  shoot !  I'm  already  wounded  ! ' 

"  The  Johnnie  was  a  mere  slip  of  a  boy  himself, 
and  hadn't  the  faintest  desire  to  shoot.  They 
had  both  seen  all  they  wanted  to  of  war.  Both 
were  homesick  and  heartsick  with  it  all.  They 
sat  down  on  a  log  and  fell  to  comparing  notes. 
Neither  one  knew  whether  he  was  captured  or 
whether  he  had  a  prisoner.  Both  were  lost. 
They  agreed  to  call  it  even  and  go  their  separate 
ways  when  they  got  their  bearings.  Neither 
wanted  to  be  a  prisoner.  *  I've  got  a  dear  old 
father  back  in  Alabama,  and  if  I  ever  see  his 
face  again  I'll  have  enough  sense  to  stay  at 


814          AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

home ; '  explained  Johnnie,  with  a  suspicious 
quaver  in  his  voice.  Ohio  had  the  very  dearest 
and  best  of  fathers  too,  and  he  confessed  that  if 
he  could  but  see  his  face  now  heaven  would 
be  his.  They  shook  hands  over  the  situation 
and  both  fell  to  crying  softly,  as  they  decided 
that  war  was  not  what  it  was  cracked  up  to  be. 
The  two  homesick  fellows  sat  there  on  that  log 
and  compared  notes  about  those  blessed  fathers 
at  home,  and  both  were  blubbering — because 
they  had,  instead  of  because  they  had  not, 
fathers  who  loved  them  and  whom  they  loved  ! 
Well,  the  upshot  was  that  they  agreed  to  part 
friends ;  and  go  back  to  their  regiments  as  soon 
as  ever  they  could  find  out  which  one  was  cap 
tured.  They'd  just  call  it  even  and  let  each 
other  off.  The  Ohio  boy  is  laid  up  now  with  a 
Minie  in  his  arm  that  he  caught  the  next  day, 
and  he  is  wondering  if  the  Alabama  lad  with 
the  father  sent  him  that  ball  as  a  keepsake  and 
a  reminder !  So  you  see  there  are  some  humor 
ous  sides  to  these  horrors  after  all,  mother.  My 
journalistic  instinct  has  kept  me  amused  with 
this  thing  a  good  deal  to-day.  I'd  have  given  a 
good  deal  to  have  overheard  the  talk.  I  swear 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  315 

I  wouldn't  have  captured  Alabama.  He  should 
have  had  his  chance  to  go  back  to  the  dear  old 
home  and  the  father.  Ohio  was  troubled  over  it, 
but  I  told  him  that  he  did  exactly  right.  But 
wasn't  it  delightfully  funny  ?  Oh,  mother  mine, 
I  wish  I  could  say  something  to  make  you  keep 
up  good  heart.  I  hope  father  is  home.  If  I 
could  be  sure  that  he  is,  I'd  feel  almost  gay,  to 
day.  Wool  little  Margaret's  curly  pate  for  me 
and  tell  her  that  I  say  her  chirographical  efforts 
are  very  creditable  for  a  young  lady  of  her 
limited  experience.  Get  her  some  little  paper 
and  encourage  her  to  write  to  me  often.  It  will 
do  her  good,  and  it  will  be  a  delight  to  me. 
Her  last  letter  was  as  quaint  and  demure  as  her 
little  self.  Love  to  aunt  Judy — the  faithful  old 
soul,  and  to  the  gentle  Hosanna — in  the  highest 
— peace  and  good  will ;  not  to  *  mention  me  re- 
sphects.' 

"  Keep  up  a  brave  heart,  mother.  It  can't 
last  much  longer ;  and  truly,  truly  I  believe  that 
Roy  is  quite  safe.  Kiss  yourself  for  your  eldest 
and  loving  son, 

"  BEVERLY." 


316  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

"  Thy  brother's  blood  the  thirsty  earth  hath  drunk." 

Shakespeare. 

WHEN  Griffith  reported  at  the  White  House, 
the  President  expressed  himself  as  entirely 
satisfied.  "  You  have  done  all  I  asked  ;  "  lie 
said.  "  The  maps  sent,  so  far,  are  wonderfully 
fine  and  accurate,  I  can  see  that,  and  now  that 
you  have  left  a  man  who  is  able  and  willing  to 
take  your  place,  that  is  all  I  ask.  If  he  should  fail 
us  I  will  send  for  you  again :  but  I  hope  I  shall 
not  need  to  do  that.  If  he  is  faithful,  you  have, 
indeed,  done  your  whole  duty,  nobly.  I  thank 
you  !  I  thank  you  1  You  are  a  silent  hero — a 
war  hero  in  times  of  peace  and  a  peace  hero  in 
times  of  war !  I  am  glad  you  can  go  home  now. 
I — I  happened  to  read — I  always  notice  your 
name,  now  when  I  see  it  and " 

Griffith  looked  at  him  steadily.     There  was 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATBIOT.  317 

evidently  something  bearing  on  the  mind  of  the 
President  which  had  to  do  with  Griffith.  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  moving  toward  the  table.  "  Have 
you  read — I  suppose  you  have  not  seen  the 
papers  lately  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  Griffith  said,  shaking  his  head. 
"  What  is  the  news,  Mr.  Lincoln  ?  " 

"  Glorious  news  !  A  great  victory  at  Shiloh  ! 
A  great  victory ;  but " 

He  turned  over  several  papers  and  took  one 
up  from  among  the  rest. 

"  What  regiments  are  your  sons  in  ? "  he 
asked,  looking  down  the  columns. 

Griffith  put  out  his  hand,  "  What  is  the  name, 
Mr.  Lincoln  ?  Is  he  killed  or " 

The  President  retained  the  paper  and  feigned 
to  be  looking  for  a  name.  "  No,  no,  missing — 
according  to  one  account.  The  other — the  news 
is  too  meager  yet  to — it  is  confused.  We  can't 
be  sure,  and  then  this  paper  is  several  days 
old,  beside.  I've  seen  nothing  since — nothing 
at  all  of  him.  Here — Roy.  Captain  Roy 
Davenport  of •" 

"  Roy  is  not  a  captain.  That  is  his  brother — 
Beverly.  Is  Roy " 


318  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

"  He  was  promoted  on  the  field,  just  before 
he  fell — or This  paper " 

Griffith  staggered  toward  the  door. 

"  I  must  go  home.  Just  before  he  fell  ! 
Poor  Katherine  !  Poor  Roy !  I  must  go  home. 

I  must  make  haste.  How  long When  did 

you  say  it  was  ?  When ?  " 

"  Wait, "  said  Mr.  Lincoln.  "  Let  me  try 
for  a  message — for  accurate  news  for  you. 
Wait."  He  rang.  "  Send  that  message,  in 
stantly — to  Shiloh — to  the  Colonel  of  the 

Indiana  Infantry,  and  bring  me  the  reply.  Be 
quick — quick  as  you  can,"  he  said ;  and  the 
secretary  hastened  away. 

Silence  fell  between  them.  Griffith's  hand 
reached  out  toward  the  paper  Mr.  Lincoln  had 
let  fall,  but  the  long  angular  arm  reached  it 
first,  and  as  if  not  noticing  the  movement  of  Mr. 
Davenport,  he  deftly  slid  it  toward  the  pile  of 
other  papers,  and  then  suddenly  flung  all  into 
a  confused  heap  as  he  searched  for  some  article 
on  the  table. 

"  Would  you  like  to  go  home  that  way  ?  " 
They  were  both  thinking  of  Shiloh,  so  why 
mention  the  name  ?  "  Perhaps  if  you  did,  you 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  319 

might   find — you    might  take  him  home    with 

you  if Have   you    wired    his    mother    that 

you  are  safe,  and   here   on  your  way  home  ? 

That  was  right.     That  will  help  her  to  bear " 

He  arose  restlessly  and  placed  both  hands 
upon  Griffith's  shoulders.  "  Mr.  Davenport, 
I  can't  thank  you  enough  for  your  services. 
I  want  you  to  understand  that  I  know  what 
it  all  meant  to  you,  and  that  I  appreciate 
it  at  its  full  value.  I  hope  the  time  will 
come  when  you  will  let  a  grateful  country 

know   what  you  have  done  and — and "    He 

held  out  his  hand  for  the  message  as  the  door 
had  opened  for  the  secretary.  He  read  and 
turned  the  other  side  up,  and  then  re-read  it. 
"  Who  is  Beverly  ?  Colonel,  of — Oh,  your  sou  ? 
Oh,  this  is  for  you  !  I  did  not  notice  the  address. 
I  wondered  who  loved  me  !  "  Mr.  Lincoln  smiled 
as  he  handed  the  message  to  his  guest.  "  Roy 
is  wounded,  but  doing  well.  Have  sent  him  to 
Nashville  to  the  Wests.  I  am  unhurt.  I  love 
you.  Beverly,"  Griffith  read.  Then  he  took 
out  his  handkerchief  and  blew  a  great  blast. 

"Was  there  ever  such  a  boy?     To  telegraph 
that!"  He  smiled  up  at  Mr.  Lincoln  through 


320  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

proud  dim  eyes.  "  That  is  my  oldest  son — the 
Captain."  The  quaver  in  his  voice  and  the  smile 
in  his  eyes,  drowned  as  it  was  in  moisture, 
touched  the  great  man  before  him,  who  took  the 
message  again  and  re-read  it  as  Griffith  talked. 
"  He  is  a  good  son.  He " 

"  He  loves  you  he  says,  and  the  other 
one  is  doing  well.  You  ought  to  be  sat 
isfied.  A  good  many  fathers  are  not  fixed 
just  that  way,  to-day !  "  Mr.  Lincoln  shook 
his  head  sadly  from  side  to  side,  and  the 
tragic  face  sank  into  its  depth  of  gloom  again. 
"  Too  many  fathers  have  no  sons  to  love  them  to 
day — too  many,  too  many,"  he  said  gloomily. 
"  When  will  it  all  end ?  Sow  will  it  all  end?  " 
He  held  out  the  message  as  he  suddenly  turned 
to  the  table.  "  You  will  want  to  keep  that.  Do 
you  want  to  go  by  way  of  Nashville,  now  ?  Or 
straight  home  ?  " 

Griffith  re-read  the  message.  "  Straight 
home,"  he  said.  "  He  is  in  good  hands — and — and 
he  is  safe.  Straight  home."  Then  suddenly,  as  he 
folded  the  telegram  and  placed  it  in  his  in 
side  pocket,  "  Mr.  Lincoln,  did  you  know  I 
am  a  deserter  ?  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  321 

"What?" 

"  Did  you  know  I  deserted  ?  The  General 
threatened  to  shoot  me,  and " 

"W-h-a-t!" 

Griffith  told  the  story  of  the  threat  simply, 
fully.  The  keen  eyes  watched  him  narrowly. 
There  was  a  growing  fire  in  them. 

"  Didn't  you  know  he  couldn't  shoot  you  ? 
Didn't  you  know  you  were  under  me  ?  Didn't 
you  know " 

"  I  didn't  think  of  that  at  first,  Mr.  Lincoln. 
I  thought  he  could,  and — I  thought  he  would, 
for  a  little  while.  I  was " 

"  If  he  had,"  said  the  President,  rising  and 
showing  more  fire  than  he  had  exhibited  before, 
"well,  if  he  had,  all  I've  got  to  say,  is  that 
there'd  a'  been  two  of  you  shot ! "  Then, 
recalling  himself  he  smiled  grimly.  "  If  he 
does  his  share  as  well  as  you've  done  yours,  I'll 
be  satisfied." 

"  Before  I  go,  Mr.  Lincoln,  I  wanted  to  speak 
to  you  about  a  little  matter.  You  said  some 
thing  just  now  about  a  grateful  country,  and — 
but — I  recall  that  you — I  understood  you  to — 

The  fact  is,  when  I  was  here  before,  I  somehow 
21 


322  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

got  the  idea  that  you  were  willing  to — to  pay, 
and  to  give  a  Colonel's  commission,  and — and 
emoluments — to  one  who  could  do  this  service, 
ana- 
Mr.  Lincoln  dropped  the  hand  he  held,  and 
an  indescribable  change  passed  over  the  tall 
form  and  the  face,  which  made  both  less  pleas 
ant  to  see.  But  he  smiled,  as  he  passed  his 
hand  over  his  face,  and  turning  toward  the 
table  with  a  tired  expression,  reached  for  a 
pen. 

"  You've  sort  of  concluded  that  the  job  is 
worth  pay,  have  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it's  worth  all  you  can  afford  to  pay, 
Mr.  Lincoln ;  it  is  extremely  dangerous  business. 
Is  the  offer  still  open  ?  " 

The  President  gave  an  imperceptible  shrug  to 
his  loose  shoulders,  and  drew  a  sheet  of  paper 
toward  him. 

"  Certainly.  Commission  ?  "  he  said  as  he 
began  to  write. 

"  Yes,  if  you  will.  A  Colonel's  commission 
and  pay  dating  all  back  to  the  beginning  of  my 
service — if  that  is  right." 

Mr.  Lincoln   nodded,  but   there   was  a   dis- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  323 

tinctly  chilly  air  creeping  into  his  tone.  "  Y-e-s. 
of  course.  'Nything  else  ?  " 

"  I  don't  see  hardly  how  you  can  date  it  back 
either,  without " 

"  Oh  yes,  I  can  date  it  back  to  the  beginning 
of  your  service,"  he  said  wearily,  "  but  I  don't 
know " 

"I  guess  you'll  have  to  just  put  it  Col.  L. 
Patterson,  for  I  don't  know  his  real  name,  the 
baptismal  one.  Known  him  all  my  life  just  as 
Lengthy,  but  of  course  that  won't " 

"  What !  "  the  President  had  turned  to  face 
him,  but  Griffith  was  still  looking  contempla 
tively  out  of  the  window,  and  did  not  notice 
the  sudden  change  of  tone  and  position. 

"  It  will  give  him  a  certain  standing  with 
the  men — and  with  the  General — that  he  will 
need — and  deserve,  and — and — and  the  rest  is 
right  too,  for  him,  if " 

Mr.  Lincoln  thrust  his  fingers  back  and  forth 
through  his  already  disheveled  hair,  and  at  last 
burst  out :  "  Can't  say  that  I  exactly  get 
your  idea.  I  understood  you  to  say  that  you 
had  changed  your  mind  about — about  wanting 
the  rank  of  Colonel,  and — and  the  pay  for " 


324  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  was  looking  full  at  Griffith,  and  the  preach 
er's  eyes  traveled  back  from  the  distant  hills 
and  fell  upon  the  face  before  him.  It  struck 
him  that  the  face  looked  tired  and  worn.  He 
pulled  himself  up  sharply,  for  the  dull  way  he 
had  been  presenting  the  case,  and  his  reply  was 
in  a  fuller,  freer  voice,  with  a  brisker  air  of  at 
tention  to  business. 

"Certainly,  certainly,  Mr.  Lincoln,  that's  it 
exactly."  Then  with  a  lowered  voice :  "  Perhaps 
you  don't  realize,  Mr.  Lincoln,  that  every 
instant  a  man  in  that  situation,  who  is  known 
and  recognized,  and  who  holds  no  commission, 
and  wears  no  federal  uniform,  has  his  life  in  his 
hands — is  in  more  danger  than  any  soldier  ever 
is,  and " 

"  Realize  !  Didn't  I  tell  you  so  ?  Didn't  I 
ask  you  to  go  better  protected  ?  Didn't  I ?  " 

Griffith  waved  his  hand  and  went  on. 

"I  somehow  couldn't  bring  myself  to  take 
the  attitude  and  position  of  a  soldier.  I  am  a 
man  of  peace,  a  non-combatant,  a  clergyman, 
and — and  then  there  was  some  sort  of  sentiment 
— of — Mr.  Lincoln,  it  isn't  necessary  to  try  to 
explain  my  position.  The  fact  is,  I  doubt  if  I 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  825 

could,  if  I  tried,  make  you  understand  wholly ; 
but  I  want  this  Government  to  protect  Lengthy 
Patterson  with  all  the  power  and  all  the  devices 
it  has.  And  I  want  him  to  have  a  commission 
that  will  place  him  where  he  will  receive  re 
spect  and  consideration  in  our  own  ranks  ;  and 
if  he  is  captured.  I  want  money  paid  to  him  to 
live  on  afterward,  if  he  should  be  hurt — and 
he  can  never  live  in  his  old  home  again.  I 

want "  He  had  risen  and  was  standing 

near  the  President  again.  His  voice  had  grown 
intense  in  its  inflection.  "Lengthy  Patterson 
has  taken  my  place,  and  I  want — and — if  you 
will  just  give  him  all  that — I  don't  see  how  you 
can  date  it  back  either,  or  he  will  suspect  that 
1  am  paying  him — and  he  wouldn't  take  a  cent ; 
but  if — can't  you  just " 

A  great  gleam  of  light  seemed  to  break  over 
the  rugged  face  of  the  President.  He  arose 
suddenly,  and  threw  one  arm  around  Griffith's 
shoulders,  and  grasped  his  hand  again. 

"  God  bless  my  soul !  Certainly !  Of 
course !  By  the  lord  Harry,  I  didn't  understand 

you  at  first,  I Why,  certainly,  the  man  who 

took  your  place  shall  have  both  the  commission 


826  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

that  will  shield  him  and  the  pay  he  deserves, 
certainly,  certainly ! "  They  were  moving 
toward  the  door.  "  Anything  else,  Mr.  Daven 
port?" 

"  I  reckon  you  will  have  to  let  him  think  that 
J  took — that  I  was  both  commissioned  and — and 
paid,  Mr.  Lincoln,  or  he  won't  take  it — and — and 
there  isn't  the  least  reason  why  he  should  not. 
He  must.  Can  I  leave  it  all — will  you  see 
that ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  that's  all  right.  I'll  fix  that — 

I'm  glad  it's  that  way "  He  broke  off  and 

took  Griffith's  hand.  "  Well,  good-bye.  Good 
bye.  I  hope,  when  we  meet  again,  it  will  not  be 
— I  hope  this  war  will  be  over,  and  that  I  shall 
have  no  more  need  to  test  men  like  you.  But 
— ah,  you  have  a  son  who  loves  you  and  the 
other  one  is  safe  !  I  wish  to  heaven  all  loyal 
men  were  as  well  off  as  you  are  to-night.  I  am 
glad  for  you,  and  yet  I  sometimes  think  I  shall 
never  feel  really  glad  again,"  and  the  strong 
homely  face  sank  from  its  gently  quizzical  smile 
into  the  depths  of  a  mood  which  had  come  to  be 
its  daily  cast.  He  stretched  out  his  hand  for 
another  message,  and  stood  reading  it  as 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.          327 

Griffith  closed  the  door  behind  him.  "  New 
Orleans  is  ours,"  was  all  that  the  message  said, 
but  Mr.  Lincoln  sighed  with  relief  and  with 
pain.  Victory  was  sweet,  but  carnage  tortured 
his  great  and  tender  soul.  The  sadly  tragic 
face  deepened  again  in  its  lines,  and  yet  he  said 
softly,  as  he  turned  to  his  desk  :  "  Thank  God ! 
Thank  God !  one  more  nail  is  driven  into  the 
coffin  of  the  Confederacy.  Let  us  hope  that 
rebellion  is  nearly  ready  to  lie  down  in  it  and 
keep  still.  Then  perhaps  we  can  be  glad  again 
— perhaps  we  can  forget !  " 


328  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

"  Through  the  shadows  of  the  globe  we  sweep  into  the 
younger  day."  "ennyson. 

"  WHEN  the  war  is  over  and  the  boys  all  get 
home,"  Griffith  was  fond  of  saying,  as  he  sat  and 
talked  with  Katherine,  "  how  good  it  will  seem 
just  to  live !  I've  seen  all  the  suffering  and 
shadows  of  tragedy  I  want  to  see  for  my  whole 
life.  The  boys  and  I  will  make  it  up  to  you, 
Katherine,  and  these  gray  hairs  that  have  come," 
he  touched  the  wavy  hair  with  tender  fingers, 
."these  gray  hairs  that  have  come  since  we  went 
away,  shall  be  only  memoranda  of  the  past,  not 
heralds  of  the  future." 

It  was  such  infinite  relief  to  have  him  at  home 
and  well  that  Katherine  almost  forgot  for  a  time 
to  feel  troubled  about  her  sons.  News  had  come 
daily  from  the  first  about  Roy ;  but  now  that 
he  was  so  much  improved  the  letters  gradually 
grew  a  little  less  frequent.  Sometimes  Emma 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  329 

West  wrote  them,  and  then  the  letters  were  veiy 
minute  indeed,  and  full  of  anxious  hopefulness. 
Her  praise  of  Roy's  fortitude,  her  descriptions 
of  his  wonderful  courage  and  the  insistence  with 
which  she  assured  Katharine  that  no  duty  of  all 
their  lives — her  father's  and  mother's — had  ever 
been  done  with  half  so  hearty  a  good-will  as  was 
the  nursing  of  the  young  Captain,  had  in  it  all 
a  spirit  of  devotion  and  a  guarded  tenderness 
that  Katharine  thought  she  understood.  Al 
though  it  is  true  that  no  girl  is  ever  quite  good 
enough  to  marry  any  mother's  son,  Katherine 
tried  to  adjust  herself  with  reasonable  fortitude 
to  the  idea  of  what  she  thought  she  saw  in  the 
future.  Of  course  it  would  be  many  years  in 
the  future  before  the  finality  must  be  faced,  and 
Katherine  was  learning  to  live  in  the  present 
and  to  push  aside  that  which  threatened  or  even 
promised,  as  too  uncertain  to  dwell  upon.  At 
last  short  notes,  and  then  longer  ones,  from  Roy 
himself  began  to  come,  and  the  time  seemed  not 
far  off  when  the  invalid  would  arrive.  It 
was  wholly  unlikely,  he  said,  that  he  would 
be  fit  for  service  again  during  the  war,  unless  the 
war  should  last  much  longer  than  his  original 


330  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

term  of  enlistment  and  lie  should  enlist  again. 
Of  his  final  recovery  he  felt  certain.  The 
crushed  side  was  doing  well,  and  he  would  be 
only  slightly  lame,  the  doctor  said.  To  get  him 
out  of  the  army  by  even  so  heroic  a  process  gave 
his  mother  comfort,  and  she  felt  that  she  could 
keep  him  out  now  even  should  he  recover  before 
his  enlistment  period  were  over,  she  would,  if 
need  be,  appeal  to  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  she  felt  sure, 
from  all  Griffith  had  told  her,  that  the  President 
would  give  Roy  an  honorable  discharge.  Two 
of  her  brood  were  safe  again,  she  argued  with 
herself,  and  meantime  news  from  Howard  and 
Beverly  was  frequent  and  assuring.  Life  seemed 
about  to  drop  into  less  tragic  lines  in  the  little 
household.  Griffith  fell  to  humming  his  favorite 
hymns  once  more,  and  sometimes  as  he  sat  on 
the  porch  and  watched  or  greeted  the  passers-by 
or  read  his  paper,  he  would  stop  to  tell  Katherine 
stories  of  his  recent  adventures,  where  they 
did  not  trench  too  closely  upon  the  sorrowful 
memories  of  the  cold  faces  and  bitter  feelings  of 
his  one-time  friends.  To  no  one  else  did  he 
speak  of  where  he  had  been.  His  townsmen 
knew  that  he  had  been  away,  of  course.  The 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  331 

Bishop  and  the  college  trustees  alone  knew 
why.  To  all  others  his  few  months'  absence 
was  no  more  significant  than  many  another  trip 
he  had  taken  since  he  came  among  them.  The 
duty  he  had  felt  forced  to  do  had  been  too  pain 
ful  in  its  nature  to  make  him  willing  to  discuss 
it  even  after  it  was  over.  Most  of  those  about 
him  were  bitter  toward  the  South  with  a  bitter 
ness  born  of  ignorance  of  conditions  and  of  the 
times  of  excitement.  To  this  man,  who  had 
passed  through  the  fire  before  the  general  con 
flagration  was  kindled,  there  was  no  bitterness. 
He  understood.  His  sympathy  was  still  with 
those  who  were  caught  on  the  under  side  of  the 
wheel  of  progress  as  it  had  revolved.  His  be 
liefs  and  convictions  had  long  ago  traveled  with 
the  advance  line ;  but  he  left  all  sense  of  un- 
kindness  and  revenge  to  those  who  were  less 
competent  to  see  the  conflict  from  the  side  of 
understanding,  and  who  judged  it  through  the 
abundance  of  their  ignorance  and  prejudice.  To 
Griffith  it  was  like  watching  the  tide  rise  on  the 
sea.  It  was  unavoidable,  and  those  who  were 
caught  out  beyond  the  safety  line  were  bound 
to  go  down.  He  did  not  blame  the  sea.  He 


332  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

only  deplored  the  inevitable  loss,  the  sorrow, 
the  suffering,  and  the  mistakes  which  made  it  all 
possible.  That  his  own  part  of  it  was  in  and  of 
the  past  lightened  his  heart.  One  day  as  he  sat 
listlessly  on  the  side  porch  reading  his  Gazette, 
he  noticed  vaguely  the  half-witted  girl,  now 
almost  grown  to  womanhood,  circling  about  the 
gate  and  making  aimless  passes  toward  the  end 
of  the  house.  He  watched  her  covertly  over  his 
paper  for  a  moment  and  went  on  humming,  "  He 
leadeth  me,  oh,  blessed  thought !  "  The  move 
ments  of  the  demented  creature  seemed  to  take 
on  more  defmiteness.  Griffith  arose  and  stepped 
to  the  end  of  the  porch.  There  sat  aunt  Judy, 
smoking  her  pipe,  and  swaying  her  body  in  time 
with  his  humming,  "  O  words  with  heavenly 
comfort  fraught!  Where'er  I  go,  whate'er  I 
be," — Griffith's  step  had  attracted  the  old 
woman  and  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  up 
at  him.  "  Still  'tis  His  hand  that  leadeth  me," 
Griffith  finished,  smiling  at  her. 

"  Lawd  amassy,  honey,  I  des  been  a  settin'  heah 
wid  my  po'  ole  eyes  shet,  alistenin'  to  dat  dar  song 
er  yoahrn  !  Hit  sholy  do  seem  des  lack  ole  times 
come  back  agin  t'  heah  yoh  sing  dat  a  way  !  Hit 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  333 

sholy  do  !  Lawsy,  honey,  dey  want  no  singin' 
'roun'  heah  whilse  you  wus  gone  all  dat  long  time. 
Dey  want  dat !  Hit  wus  des  dat  gloomysome 
dat  hit  seem  lack  somebody  daid  all  de  time. 
Hit  sholy  do  go  good  t'  set  heah  an'  listen  ter 
yoh  singin'  agin !  Hit  sholy  do,  Mos'  Grif." 
She  suddenly  looked  toward  the  street.  "  Mos' 
Grif,  what  dat  dare  fool  gal  doin'  ?  She  des  do 
like  dat  a  way  all  de  time.  I  hain't  nebber  seed 
her  when  she  don't  do  des  dat  er  way.  I  ax  her 
wat  she  want,  an  I  ax  er  wat  ails  'er,  an'  she 
don't  say  nothin'  'tall.  She  des  keep  on  doin.' 
dat  way." 

"  She's  afflicted,  aunt  Judy.  She's  a  poor 
afflicted  creature  and " 

"  Lawsy,  honey,  anybody  kin  see  dat  she's 
'flicted  ;  but  wat  I  axes  yoh  is,  what  fer  she  do  dat 
away  at  me  ?  She  ain'  do  dat  a  way  at  yoh,  an' 
she  ain'  do  dat  a  way  at  Mis'  Kate — an'  she  ain' 
do  dat  a  way  at  Mis'  Marg'et,  needer.  Des  at 
me.  She  tryin'  ter  witch  me.  Dat's  what ! " 

Griffith  laughed.  The  point  of  view  was  so 
unexpected  and  yet  so  wholly  characteristic  that 
it  struck  him  as  humorous  beyond  the  average 
of  aunt  Judy's  mental  processes.  His  laugh 


334  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

rang  out  loud  and  clear.  His  broad  shoulders 
shook.  He  had  grown  quite  portly,  and  his  face 
was  the  picture  of  health  and  fine  vigor. 

"  What  fer  yoh  laugh  dat  a  way,  Mos'  Grif  ? 
Dat  dar  fool  gal  would  a  witched  me  long  time 
ago  if  hit  hadn't  a  been  fer  dat."  She  took  from 
her  bosom,  where  it  hung  from  a  string,  the  rab 
bit  foot :  "  Dat's  so.  Des  as  sho'  as  yo'  bawn, 
honey  ;  dey  ain'  no  two  ways  'bout  dat !  " 

The  fascination  of  the  strange  black  face  for 
this  clouded  intellect  seemed  never  to  lose 
its  power.  Whenever  and  wherever  Judy  had 
crossed  her  path  all  else  faded  from  the  half 
vacant  brain,  and  such  mind  and  attention  as 
there  was,  fixed  itself  upon  the  old  colored 
woman.  Judy  had  tried  every  art  she  possessed 
to  engage  the  girl  in  conversation,  but  with  no 
results.  She  would  continue  to  circle  about 
and  make  her  passes  of  indirection  with  one  hand 
outstretched  and  the  other  hung  aimlessly  perr 
dent  at  her  side  in  that  helpless  fashion  which  de 
fies  simulation.  Judy  had  even  tried  threaten 
ing  the  girl  with  her  cane ;  but  no  threat,  no 
coaxing  and  no  cajolery  served  to  free  her  from 
this  admirer  who  seemed  transfixed  as  a  bird  is  fas- 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  335 

cinated  by  a  snake — with  the  fascination  of  per 
plexity  and  fear — in  so  far  as  the  vacant  soul 
could  know  such  lively  and  definite  sensations. 
Judy  had  finally — long  ago — taken  refuge  in  her 
rabbit  foot,  and  made  up  her  mind  that  in  compe 
tition  in  the  black  art,  only,  was  safety.  She 
shook  the  foot  at  the  girl,  who  responded  in  the 
usual  fashion.  How  long  the  contest  might 
have  lasted  it  would  be  difficult  to  say,  had 
not  Griffith  walked  toward  the  gate.  The 
instant  the  bulk  of  his  body  hid  the  old 
black  woman  from  her  eyes,  nature  did  the 
rest.  The  vacant  mind,  no  longer  stimulated 
by  the  sight  of  the  uncanny  face,  lost  all  interest 
and  continuity  of  thought  and  wandered  aim 
lessly  on ;  forgetful  alike  of  her  recent  object  of 
attention  and  equally  unguided  by  future  in 
tent,  her  steps  followed  each  other  as  a  succes 
sion  of  physical  movements  only,  and  had  no  ob 
ject  and  no  destination.  Aimlessly,  listlessly, 
walking ;  going  no  one  knew  where ;  thinking 
no  one  knew  what — if,  indeed,  her  poor  vague 
mental  operations  might  be  classified  as  thought 
— living,  no  one  knew  why  ;  following  the  path 
of  least  resistance,  as  how  many  of  her  betters 


336  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

have  done  and  will  do  to  the  end  of  time  ;  look 
ing  no  farther  than  the  scope  of  present  vision  ; 
remembering  nothing  ;  learning  nothing  ;  an  ob 
ject  of  pity,  of  persecution,  of  fear  or  of  aversion 
according  as  she  crossed  the  path  of  civilized  or 
savage,  of  intelligent  and  pitiful  or  of  pitiless 
ignorance.  Griffith  watched  her  as  she  wove 
her  devious  way  and  wondered  where,  in  the 
economy  of  Nature,  such  as  she  could  find  a  use 
ful  place,  and  why,  in  the  providence  of  God,  she 
had  been  cast  adrift  to  cumber  the  earth,  to  suf 
fer,  to  endure  and  at  last  to  die — where  and  why 
and  how  ?  He  was  not  laughing  as  he  returned 
to  the  house,  and  aunt  Judy  scanned  his  face 
narrowly,  and  then  carefully  replaced  the  rabbit 
foot  in  its  resting-place  in  her  bosom. 

"  Druv'  er  off.  She  know !  She  know  a 
preacher  o'  de  gospil  o'  de  Lawd  Jesus  Chris' 
w'en  she  see  'um  !  Dey  ain't  no  two  ways  'bout 
dat — 'flicted  or  no  'flicted.  Dat  dar  gal's 
'flicted  o'  course,  but  she  know  'nuf  ter  know 
dat !  She  been  tryin  ter  witch  me,  dat  she  is ;  but 
Lawd  God  A'mighty,  she  hain't  got  no  sense,  ter 
try  ter  witch  dis  house  wid  Mos'  Grif  an'  dat 
rabbit  foot  bofe  in  hit  I  Dat  dar  gal's  a  plum 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  337 

bawn  fool  ter  try  dat  kine  er  tricks.  She  is  dat. 
She's  wus  dan  'flicted.  She's  a  plum  bawn 
ejiot  ter  try  dat  kine  er  tricks  aroun'  dese  heak 
diggins.  She  is  dat !  Lawsy,  Lawsy,  she  ain' 
got  no  sense  worf  talkin'  'bout  I  Mos'  Grif  an' 
dat  rabbit  foot  bofe  t'  match  up  wid  !  Lawsy, 
Lawsy,  dat  dar  pore  'flicted  gal's  a  plum  bawn 
fool !  "  And  poor  old  aunt  Judy,  still  talking 
to  herself,  hobbled  into  the  house,  satisfied  with 
her  estimate  of  all  parties  concerned  and  content 
with  the  world  as  she  found  it,  so  long  as  that 
world  contained  for  her  both  a  Mos'  Grif  and 
her  precious  rabbit  foot. 

White  or  black,  bond  or  free,  war  or  peace, 
were  all  one  to  old  aunt  Judy  ;  nothing  mat 
tered  in  all  this  infinite  puzzle  called  life,  if  but 
there  remained  to  her  these  two  strongholds 
of  her  faith  and  her  dependence  !  And  who 
shall  say  that  aunt  Judy  was  not  wise  in  her 
day  and  generation?  So  wise  was  she  that 
sorrow,  anxiety,  and  care  had  passed  her  lightly 
by  to  the  end  that  her  eighty  years  sat  upon  her 
shoulders  like  a  pleasant  mantle,  adjusted,  com 
fortable  to  a  summer  breeze- 
22 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

"  And  what  are  words  ?    How  little  these  the  silence  of  the 
soul  oppress  ! 

Mere  froth, — the  foani  and  flower  of  seas  whose  hungering 
waters  heave  and  press 

Against  the  planets  and  the  sides  of  night, — mute,  yearn 
ing,  mystic  tides  !" 

Bulwer. 

"  I  AM  coming  home  next  month,"  wrote 
Roy,  "  with  my  wife — the  very  dearest,  sweetest, 
most  lovable  and  beautiful  girl  in  the  whole 
world.  We  have  decided  not  to  wait,  but  to  be 
married  at  once — as  soon  as  she  can  get  ready, 
and  I  a  bit  stronger — and  go  home  for  our  bridal 
trip.  The  winter  at  home  with  you  will  finish 
up  my  recovery  (and  if  anything  on  earth  could 
facilitate  it,  Emma's  nursing  and  care  and  love 
will,)  and  then  if  the  war  is  not  over,  of  course  I'll 
go  back  if  I  am  needed — enlist  again.  My  time 
is  out  now ;  but  I  hope  and  believe  that  the  war 
will  be  over,  or,  at  least,  on  its  last  legs  by  that 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  339 

time,  and  then  I  can  begin  business  at  once. 
My  own  idea  is  to  take  the  stock-farm,  if 
father  is  willing,  instead  of  leaving  it  to  those 
Martins  who  don't  know  the  first  thing  about 
stock-breeding,  and  go  in  for  fine  horses  and  a 
few  fine  cows,  too.  I  got  hold  of  some  books  on 
those  subjects  here.  Emma's  father  used  to 
have  a  fancy  that  way,  and  I've  read  up 
and  talked  a  lot  with  him  on  the  subject  in 
these  four  months.  Don't  you  think  we  could 
fix  the  house  out  there  on  the  place  so  it  would 
do  very  well,  indeed,  for  a  couple  of  young 
folks  who  won't  care  so  very  much  about  any 
thing  at  all  but  each  other  ?  " 

Griffith  stopped  reading  the  letter  to  laugh. 

"  Tut,  tut,  tut !     Here's  more  love  in  a  cottage 
business  for  you.     Well,  well,  I  am  surprised, 
Katherine  !     I  am " 

"I  am  not.  I've  been  expecting  it  all 
along — only — I  did  hope — I  didn't  think  it 
would  be  quite  so  soon.  Roy  is  only  twen " 

"  Well,  well,  'pon  my  soul,  it  looks  as  if  you 
didn't  get  out  of  one  kind  of  a  frying-pan  in 
this  world  until  you  got  into  another.  I  was 
just  building  all  sorts  of  castles  about  the  future 


340  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

and — and  to  tell  the  mortal  truth,  Katherine, 
I  never  once  thought  of  making  a  place  for 

a   daughter-in-law  !     Never   once  !     Why " 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Griffith  finished  the 
letter  in  silence  and  handed  it  to  his  wife.  As 
she  read — she  began  back  at  the  beginning — he 
gazed  straight  before  him  with  unseeing  eyes 
and  a  low  hum  ran  along  with  unsteady  and 
broken  measure.  "  How  tedious — mmmm — 
mm — the  hours,  Mmmmm — no  longer  mmm 
mm  ;  Sweet  pros — mmm,  swee — et  mmm  mm 
mm,  mmmm,  Ha — ave  all  mm  mm  mm  mm  to 
me.'  But  we'll  have  to  expand  the  castle, 
Katherine — build  on  an  addition  for  a  daugh 
ter-in-law,"  he  said  as  if  there  had  been  no  break 
in  the  conversation,  albeit  almost  half  an  hour 
had  passed  during  which  each  had  been  wrapped 
in  thought,  and  the  singing — if  Griffith's  natural 
state  of  vocalization  may  be  called  by  that 
name — was  wholly  unnoticed  by  both. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katherine  in  a  tired  voice  ;  "  yes, 
but  I  had  hoped  for  a  reunion  of — of  just 
ourselves  first ;  but — but — we  will  try  to  feel  that 
she  is  one  of  ourselves — and  surely  we  ought  to 
be  very  grateful  for  the  way  they  have  nursed 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  341 

Roy  and — His  letter "  Katherine  fell  to 

discussing  liis  letter  and  the  new  plans  and 
needs,  and  how  short  a  time  it  would  be  until 
they  would  come. 

Little  Margaret  hailed  with  delight  the  idea  of 
a  new  sister.  They  all  remembered  the  pretty 
face  of  the  school-girl  Emma.  Letters  of  con 
gratulation  and  welcome  were  written  and 
posted,  and  it  seemed  to  Katherine  that  nothing 
in  the  whole  world  could  ever  either  surprise  or 
startle  her  any  more.  She  felt  sure  that  what 
ever  should  come  to  her  in  the  future  would 
find  her  ready.  She  would  take  the  outstretched 
hand  of  any  new  experience  and  say,  "  I  was 
expecting  you."  Her  powers  seemed  to  her  to 
have  taken  up  their  position  upon  a  level  sur 
face  and  to  have  lost  all  ability  to  rise  or  fall. 
The  fires  had  burned  too  close  to  have  left  ma 
terial  to  ever  flare  up  again.  There  was  nothing 
left,  she  thought,  to  kindle  a  sudden  or  brilliant 
blaze.  She  had  accepted  the  thought  of  a  new 
daughter  with  a  placidity  which  shocked  her 
self,  when  she  thought  of  it,  until  she  analyzed 
her  sensations  or  her  lack  of  them. 

The  month  passed.     When  the  happy  young 


342  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

creatures  came,  the  very  beauty  of  their  faces 
and  forms  about  the  house  gave  warmth  and 
color.  Roy  was  still  limping  a  little  and  his 
lung  needed  care,  but  he  was  as  handsome  as  a 
young  fellow  could  be,  and  as  proud  and  bright 
in  his  new  happiness  as  if  the  earth  were  his. 
"  Is  she  not  beautiful  ?"  he  would  ask  twenty 
times  a  day,  holding  the  laughing  young  wife  at 
arm's  length.  "  Isn't  she  beautiful,  father? " 
and  Griffith  would  pretend  to  turn  critical  eyes 
upon  her  and  tease  the  son  with  an  assumption 
that  it  was  necessary  to  look  for  a  beauty  which 
was  both  rare  arid  graciously,  brilliantly  en 
dowed. 

"  Well,  let  me  see !  L-e-t — me  s-e-e  !  Turn 
around,  daughter-^— No,  not  so  far — M-mm. 
Well — it — seems — to — me — she  is  r-a-t-h-e-r 
fair  !  "  and  Griffith's  eyes  would  twinkle  with 
pleasure  when  Emma  tweaked  his  ears  or  drowned 
his  pretense  in  a  dash  of  music.  The  old  piano 
gave  place  to  a  new  one,  and  the  home  was  once 
more  filled  with  laughter  and  music  and  a  hap 
piness  that  not  even  the  shadow  cast  by  the 
thought  of  the  two  absent  ones  could  make 
dark  enough  to  veil  the  spirits  of  the  two  who 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  343 

had  come.  With  the  others  it  had  also  its  in 
fection.  So  true  is  it  that  after  long  and  ter 
rible  strains  we  hail  partial  relief  with  such  peans 
of  joy  that  the  shadows  that  remain  seem  only 
to  temper  the  light  that  has  burst  upon  our 
long  darkened  vision  and  to  render  us  only  the 
better  able  to  bear  the  relief.  Griffith  sang  the 
old  hymns  daily  now,  and  even  essayed  to  add 
his  uncertain  voice  to  the  gay  music  that  Emma 
and  Roy  flung  forth. 


"  And  the  nights  shall  be  filled  with  music, 
And  the  thoughts  that  infest  the  day, 
Shall  fold  their  tents,  like  the  Arabs, 
And  as  silently  steal  away." 


Emma's  voice  rang  out  clear  and  sweet,  and 
it  seemed  to  Katherine  that,  after  all,  it  was 
very  delightful  to  have  a  new  daughter  like 
this  one,  and  if  Roy  must  marry,  why 

Good  news  continued  to  come  from  the 
front.  Howard  and  Beverly  were  well  and  un 
hurt.  In  their  different  ways  they  wrote  cheer 
ful  and  cheering  letters.  Emma  grew  more 
radiant  every  day  as  she  watched  the  returning 
color  come  to  Roy's  cheeks,  and  one  day  Griffith 


344  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT, 

took  her  by  both  arms  as  she  was  flashing  past 
him.  He  held  her  at  arm's  length  and  laughed. 

"  Trying  to  see  if  I'm  pretty,  father  ?  "  she 
said  saucily,  lifting  her  mouth  for  a  kiss. 

"  Pretty  I  pretty  !  Why,  daughter  of  Baby 
lon,  the  lilies  of  the  field  are  not  half  so 

lovely — and  Solomon,  in  all  his  glory "  He 

stepped  back  and  folded  his  arms.  Emma 
flung  both  little  hands  up  to  his  cheeks  in  glee. 
"  Kiss  me  !  oh,  you  dear  old  father  !  Solomon 
in  all  his  glory  never  knew  you — didn't  have 
37ou  for  a  father — and  so  that  is  where  I  have 
got  the  best  of  Solomon  !  Poor  old  Solomon,  I 
wouldn't  trade  with  him  !  "  She  ran  laughing 
down  the  hall,  and  Katherine  smiled  up  at  her 
husband. 

"  What  a  dear  girl  she  is  !  I  am  so  glad  for 
Roy — for  all  of  us ;  "  she  said.  "  It  is  easy  and 
a  pleasure  to  build  on  an  addition  to  our  air- 
castles  for  her." 

Griffith  bent  over  to  kiss  her.  "  Yes,  God 
has  been  very  good  to  us  all  the  days  of  our 
lives,  Katherine.  The  struggles  have  all  been 
outside  of  the  most  sacred — of He  hesi 
tated  as  he  recalled  some  of  the  struggles,  and 


UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  345 

touched  his  lips  to  her  hair  where  the  gray 
was  growing  distinct.  "But  all  those  seem  to 
be  about  over,  now,  and  for  us  the  dawn  is  here 
and  the  brilliant  day  is  only  just  ahead.  Ah, 
little  wife,  the  sun  will  rise  for  us  to-morrow  on 
a  day  which  shall  have  no  conflict  of  soul  be 
fore  us.  How  happy  we  shall  be  when  the 
other  boys  get  home  !  It  makes  me  feel  young 
again  only  to  think  of  it !  I  am  going  over  to 
the  College  now.  A  business  meeting  of  the 
trustees."  He  smiled  back  at  her  and  went 
humming  down  the  lawn  :  "  Joy  to  the  world, 
the  Lord  is  come  !  " 

Two  hours  later  in  the  twilight,  there  was  a 
confused  scuffle  of  feet  and  babble  of  muffled 
voices  on  the  front  porch.  Katherine,  ever  on 
the  alert  for  news  from  her  absent  sons,  opened 
the  door.  A  dark,  repellent  face — the  face  of  an 
ascetic,  cast  in  the  mold  of  sorrow  and  soured 
by  the  action  of  time,  was  before  her.  She  rec 
ognized  the  pastor  of  the  church  near  by. 
"Sister  Davenport,"  he  said,  "you  had  better 

step  back.  We  have  sad  news.  We He 

is  dead." 

"Which   one?     Which   one?"  cried  Kathe- 


346  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

rine,  "  Howard  or  Beverly  ?  "  She  was  strug 
gling  to  push  by  them  out  on  to  the  porch. 
Roy  rushed  from  the  hallway  and  past  the 
group. 

"  Great  God  !  It  is  father  !  It  is  father  !  " 
he  cried,  and  turned  to  shield  his  mother  from 
the  sight.  "  Come  back  !  Come  back  !  "  he  said 
grasping  her  l>y  the  waist  and  trying  to  force  her 
into  a  chair.  He  had,  as  we  all  have  at  such 
times,  a  vague  idea  of  somehow  saving  her  by 
gaining  time.  The  little  group  was  staggering 
into  the  room  and  its  load  was  laid  upon  the 
couch.  Griffith  Davenport  was  dead.  The  smile 
on  the  face  was  there  still,  but  the  poor  brave 
heart  would  beat  no  more  forever. 

"  Heart  failure,"  some  one  said,  "  in  the 
trustees'  room." 

"  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death — "  began 
the  stern-faced  ascetic  as  he  took  his  place  near 
Katherine.  Roy  had'  pushed  her  into  a  chair  and 
stood  holding  her  about  the  shoulders.  Emma 
knelt  before  her  with  streaming  eyes,  looking 
into  the  set  face.  Little  Margaret  was  weeping 
with  fear.  She  had  never  before  seen  the  face 
of  death.  She  did  not  understand.  She  only 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  347 

knew  that  some  terrible  blow  had  fallen,  and 
she  clung  to  aunt  Judy  and  wept. 

"  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death.  The 
Lord  give tli,  and " 

"  Ob,  go  away,  go  away  !  "  moaned  Katherine, 
as  the  monotonous  voice  and  the  tall  form  of  the 
clergyman  forced  itself  into  her  consciousness 
again.  "  Go  away  and  leave  me  with  my  dead  !  " 
She  was  dry-eyed  and  staring.  Sbe  sat  like  one 
in  a  dream.  She  had  not  reckoned  upon  this 
when  she  had  felt  that  she  was  ready  for  any 
thing  that  should  come — anything  that  could 
come  to  her  in  the  future.  She  was  too  dazed 
to  grasp  or  adjust  anything  now.  She  only  knew 
that  she  must  be  alone.  "  Go  away  !  go  away," 
she  said  looking  up  at  Roy.  .  He  motioned  the 
men  and  the  minister  out  and  closed  and  locked 
the  door.  When  he  returned  to  his  mother's  side 
her  eyes  were  shut  and  her  head  was  thrown  back 
against  the  chair.  There  were  no  tears.  He 
beckoned  Judy  to  bring  little  Margaret,  and  he 
took  his  mother's  arms  and  put  them  about 
the  child,  and  his  own  were  around  both.  His 
own  eyes  were  streaming  but  hers  were  dry  still. 

"Mother,"   he   said   softly,    "mother,"     She 


348  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

did  not  answer.  Presently  she  opened  her  e3res 
and  they  fell  upon  the  child  in  her  arms. 

"  Poor  fatherless  child !  Poor  fatherless 
child  !  "  she  moaned,  and  the  tears  gushed  forth, 
but  her  arms  dropped  slowly  from  Margaret's 
form,  and  she  did  not  seem  to  want  the  child 
there.  The  streaming  eyes  traveled  toward 
the  couch  and  its  silent  occupant  whose  trials 
and  struggles  were  indeed  over  at  last.  Oh, 
the  irony  of  fate !  No  conflict  of  soul  was 
before  him,  the  dawn  he  had  heralded — the 
brilliant  day  was  come,  was  it  not  ?  Who  was 
there  to  say  ?  He  was  out  of  bondage  at  last 
— bondage  to  a  conscience  and  a  condition  that 
tortured  his  brave,  sensitive  soul.  The  end 
of  the  sacrifice  had  come,  but  for  what?  To 
Katherine,  as  she  gazed  at  him  lying  there  in 
the  gloom,  it  was  dead  sea-fruit  indeed.  She 
could  not  think.  She  only  sat  and  stared,  and 
was  conscious  of  the  dull  dead  pain — the  worth- 
lessness  of  all  things. 

Roy  bent  down  and  stroked  her  hair  and 
kissed  her.  She  did  not  seem  to  know.  "Shall 
we  go  away,  too?  -Allot  its,  mother?  Would 
rou  rather  be  alone — with  father?  " 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  349 

"  Yes,"  she  said  feebly.  "  I  will  be  alone 
always,  alone  now,  always  alone — alone  !  " 

"  No,  no,  mother,  you  will  have  all  of  us — 
all— ail-but  him.  We  will " 

"  Go  away  !  go  away,  for  a  while,"  she  said, 
and  flung  herself  on  her  knees  beside  the  couch. 
"Oh,  Griffith,  Griffith!  What  was  it  all  for? 
All  our  suffering  and  trials  and  hopes  and  life  ? 
What  was  it  all  for  at  last  ?  "  she  moaned  with 
her  arms  about  his  lifeless  form.  "  What  did  it 
all  mean?  What  was  it  all  for,  if  this  is  the 
end?  Oh,  Griffith,  Griffith  !  what  was  the  use  ? 
What  was  the  use — with  this  for  the  end !  I 
felt  so  safe  about  }rou,  darling,  now  that  you 
were  here  !  I  did  not  even  think  of  you  !  I  did 
not  fear  it  was  you  !  Oh,  Griffith,  Griffith  ! 
this  is  the  end  of  all  things  !  This  is  the  end  ! 
This  is  the  end  !  I  do  not  care  what  else  comes 
— I  do  not  care — I  do  not  care  !  What  is  a 
country?  What  are  sons  to  me  now?  I  do  not 
care  !  I  do  not  care  !  This  u  the  end  !  " 

Roy  had  heard  her  voice  and  her  sobs.  He 
opened  the  door  softly  and  saw  her  with  her 
head  on  the  breast  of  her  dead  and  the  long 
sobbing  sighs  corning  with  the  silences  between. 


350  AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT. 

He  closed  the  door  noiselessly  .again,  and  took 
his  young  wife  in  his  arms.  His  voice  was 
clicked  and  broken. 

"Emma,  my  darling,  perhaps  if  you  were 
to  go  to  her  —  perhaps  she  would  know  that  you 
can  understand  —  perhaps  you  could  com  fort  her, 


"  No,  no,  Roy,  she  would  hate  me  if  I  were 
to  go  in  there  now  —  I  who  have  you  !  I  who 
am  so  happy  and  so  blest  !  I  know  !  I  know, 
darling.  Let  her  alone  —  for  awhile.  Oh,  Roy. 
If  it  were  you  !  If  —  if  —  it  were  I  in  there, 
with  —  with  you  dead  !  Oh,  Roy  !  " 

They  clung  to  each  other  in  silence.  Both 
understood.  At  last  he  said,  holding  his  wife  to 
his  heaving  breast  :  "  And  we  cannot  help  her  ! 
Not  even  God  can  help  her  now  —  if  there  be  a 
God  —  not  even  He  can  help  her  now  !  He 
would  be  too  late  to  undo  His  own  cruelty  !  Ah, 
love  and  death  !  Love  and  death  !  how  could 
a  good  God  make  both  !  " 

The  young  wife  shuddered  and  was  silent. 
Her  faith  could  not  compass  that  situation. 
Love  was  too  new  and  too  strong.  Doubt 
entered  the  door  Love  had  swung  open  for 


AN  UNOFFICIAL  PATRIOT.  351 

these  two,  and  took  up  his  seat  at  their  fireside 
forever. 

An  hour  later,  as  they  talked  in  whispers,  Roy 
said :  "  To  think  that  we  all  escaped  in  battle 
— and  he  from  worse  danger — and  now  !  " 

"  Mos'  Roy,  honey,  I  wisht  yoh'd  take  dis  heah 
rabbit  foot  in  dar  t'  Mis'  Kate  !  Lawsy,  Mos'  Roy, 
she  gwine  ter  go  outen  her  mine  if  she  don'  look 
out.  Aunt  Judy  dori'  need  dis  heah  foot  lack 
what  Mis'  Kate  do  now,  honey.  You  des  go  in 
dar  an'  des  kinder  put  hit  inter  Mis'  Kate's 
pocket  er  somewheres.  Hit  ain't  gwine  ter  do 
her  no  harhm — an'  mebby  hit  mout  do  'er  some 
kine  er  good,  kase  I  gwine  ter  gib  hit  to  her  ter 
keep  fer  all  de  time  now." 

Roy  took  the  proffered  gift  quite  gravely. 
"  Thank  you,  aunt  Judy,  you  were  always  good 
to  us — always.  I  will  take  it  in  there  after  a 
while  ;  "  he  said,  and  the  heroic  old  soul  hobbled 
away,  happy  in  her  supreme  sacrifice. 

It  was  night To  Katherine  it  seemed 

that  the  darkness  must  be  eternal.  Yet  the 
sun  rose  on  the  morrow,  and  Life  took  up  its 
threads  and  wove  on  another  loom. 

THE    END. 


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